Savin' Me
by Pearl3
Summary: Mirai Timeline. Sometimes, ignorance of the impending doom awaiting you in the future is better than spending time worrying about it. Ignorance truly is bliss...VB. Review please!
1. Prison Gates

**A/N:**_ Yep, after months and months of not doing ANYTHING involving fanfiction, I've decided to finally start posting this. Enjoy, and review please!_

**Disclaimer:**_ Vegeta, Bulma, and the entire DBZ universe pretty much belong to Akira Toriyama. Fans like myself borrow these ideas from time to time for non-profit fun!_

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**Chapter One: Prison Gates**

"Five months," muttered the muscular man. It had been five whole months since his world had been shaken. Flipped. Turned upside down. Life had gone from the same, meaningless, murderous drill under Frieza to an exhausting, ceaseless, fruitless journey on Earth.

Five months. And everything changed.

Kakarot had returned after a year's absence, in space, doing absolutely nothing but gaining one new hat trick and idiotic articles of clothing. He had spent nearly a year searching for him, training, killing all those who reminded him of the slavery he had once been in. Had anything come of all this training?

No.

Standing in the solitude of the tall, round capsule allowed him the "thinking time" that he would not have otherwise granted himself in space. The pressure of the gravity let him do simple strength training exercises, without worrying about accidentally killing himself.

Heh.

As appealing as it was to leave the back-water planet that he now labeled as "place of residence", he knew that he wouldn't get the treatment properly due to someone of his status. The old man and idiotic blonde catered to his every need. Good. The loud-mouthed, vulgar brat at least feared him enough to leave him be. Even better.

So what was it that was bothering him?

Frieza had been killed. Kakarot, though his close presence angered the Prince to no end, proved to be some comfort. At least he knew where the buffoon would be when it came time to make good on his promise for their second battle. And yet, no matter what reassuring event came to light in his mind, he couldn't help shake the feeling that he was doomed. Something was wrong, or, would be wrong. Would he ever figure it out?

Probably not. Things such as these had always eluded the Prince, vexing as it may be. Shrugging, he returned to his normal training regimen, upping the gravity from 150 times Earth's normal gravity to 250. Why play around? Why waste time? If he was doomed for something, then hell, he was going out with a bang. And only one bang would work at this moment…his goal of ascension.

To be the legendary Super Saiya-jin that he had been born to be. To win. To reclaim his throne. With a smirk, he attacked the bots that the blue-haired wench had built.

Nothing would stand in his way. Ever!

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The heaviest sigh in the history of the universe resonated through the large, metal room she sat in. Yamcha was off playing baseball somewhere, and she found herself hopelessly bored. Well, maybe not _hopelessly_ bored. She entertained her mind with various thoughts of killing the not-so-recently revived warrior. Tonight, just as three other nights during the same week, would be spent alone.

Again, he had "conveniently" forgotten about this date too. Bastard.

She would not be so forgiving this time. Despite the fact that their relationship had moved towards a much more positive direction after his revival, things had instantly soured in the past month. It was almost as if they were starting at square one all over again. And she didn't like it, not one bit.

Bulma huffed, snatching her coffee mug off of her desk and set her course towards the kitchen. She couldn't help but feel rejected. Life had, in essence, returned to nearly normal. For the first time in nearly two years, they could live in peace. There was no random "would-be-rulers-of-the-universe" frantically flying to the planet. Nor were there any warrior aliens chugging towards here with all of their stupid brute strength.

Yep, things were boring.

Oh, it wasn't that she minded the peace. It really was a welcome relief. Just that things had gone from frighteningly-exciting to excruciatingly-dull in one day. One day! The blue-haired scientist paused in front of the coffee machine, deciding if she really should reach for another cup and head back to her lab, or skip the coffee and take the rest of the day off.

"Oh screw it!" she sighed, placing the mug in the sink. What was the use in tinkering with already perfected prototypes? She would just have to wait for the stupid monkey Prince to blow up the new set of bots, and then he could test these. The cycle would continue on into an endless drone until one of them died.

She plopped down in front of the couch, thumbing through a magazine she had already read twice, and tossing it to the side. Slouching down in her seat, she began to chastise herself for acting so un-lady like, but there was no one to be pretty for anyway, so she quickly forgave herself.

"Bulma dear!" exclaimed her mother. "What are you doing in on a Friday night? Why aren't you out with Yamcha?"

Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and glared out the window. "He's out playing baseball! Can you believe that mom? Oooo, when he gets home I'll kill him!"

Bunny only giggled, placing a glass of lemonade next to the disgruntled beauty. "You shouldn't be so hard on him. I'm sure he wants to have fun!"

A blue eyebrow twitched as Bulma turned to face her mother. "What? What about me! I wanna have fun too. But noooo, I'm stuck in the house, fixing Vegeta's toys!"

"Oh," Bunny placed a hand to her cheek. "Is Vegeta alright? I don't think he came in for lunch earlier!" Bulma shrugged, flipping on the TV and stealing a sip from her glass. "Darned if I know. You know he never comes out of that capsule except to sleep, eat, and shower."

Her father appeared in the doorway to the hall, petting the kitty that was securely perched on his shoulder. "Well, you have to admire that boy. He shows so much dedication to his work!" Bulma quirked an eyebrow. "I find it hard to admire anyone who's only goal in life is to be stronger than someone else so he can pound them into the ground."

A slight chuckle startled the other three in the room. Scratch, the usually attached kitty, hopped off of the doctor's shoulder and walked towards the half-naked man in the kitchen doorway. "Admire me, do you?"

Bulma stuck her nose in the air, regarding him with a side-ways glance. "Hardly. Is it time to feed you already? I'm surprised you're out of that room this early."

Vegeta merely offered a glare as he picked up the mewling cat. "Why yes, it _is_ time to feed me. I require food now," he demanded, offering a more pointed glare at the blonde-haired woman. "And you," his dark eyes shifted to Bulma. "I need more training bots. The last set you made could not keep up with me." He deposited the cat on the back of the couch, startling the old man and harpy wench.

His smirk deepened as the woman's father went on to explain that there would be an upgrade for the GR in a few days. "I barely have time to keep up with you, son! Perhaps I'll have to either hand the other projects to Bulma, or give her charge over your training equipment."

"WHAT!" screeched Bulma, shooting up from her seat. "I refuse to play slave-woman to this impudent ape! I'd rather take the other company projects anyway." Dr. Briefs chuckled, patting his daughter's arm as he replaced the cat back on his shoulder. "Now dear, I think you would do a much better job with Vegeta's equipment. You already know how to make the bots and you have a general idea of the workings of the GR. I trust that won't be _too_ difficult for you."

Bulma glared at her aging parent. He had, in all definitions of the word, goaded her into this. For one, he pointed out that all of the company projects, on her hands alone, would be too much. Which, she already knew anyway. Two, she **did** know more about the GR and its upgrades (she is the one who performs the main coding). And three, well, he boosted her ego on one point, and shot it down with the other.

Damn.

"Tch, alright. Seems like I have no choice. And you, monkey boy," she pointed at him, watching him tense slightly, all of his chuckles ceasing. "Don't expect me to always drop everything for you. Remember, I'm doing _you_ a favor by letting you stay here."

Vegeta growled at her blatant display of disrespect. No matter. In time he would show her. He would show them all! Letting her off the hook this time would let her think she had the upper hand. Then WHAM -he would get her the next time she dared.

With a wave of his hand, he stalked off to the bathroom.

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**_Didya like it?! I hope so. It'll probably be my biggest project yet…aside from "Pride and Prejudice", which people are still asking for. Sorry folks, but it won't be updated until I hit a major writer's block with this one. I've gotten a few displeased reviews, and I'm running out of characters to use, haha. But it'll get written eventually, I promise._**

**_AAAAAND, a special thanks to VeryShortMidget for taking over the beta-process for this fic! Looking for one has been the only thing holding me back :3_**

**_REVIEW!_**


	2. On Hands and Knees

**Disclaimer:**_ I dun own DBZ, nor do I own "Savin' Me" by Nickelback...they were nice enough to sing it, and I was nice enough to use it for no profit!  
_

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**Chapter Two: On Hands and Knees**

'_Perhaps it would've been a good idea to wait to come back tomorrow,'_ thought the scarred human as he found himself backed into a corner in the living room. He had returned to Capsule Corp. in great triumph, wanting to replay all of the game's events to his beautiful blue-haired vixen. Of course, he should've known that his demise had, again, been plotted by the angered woman.

She tapped the fireplace poker against one hand, waiting for the long explanation about agents forgetting to remind the excellent baseball player that their game was, in fact, tonight, and not tomorrow. Yamcha gulped, eying the poker and the woman that weld it.

"Heh, heh, hey babe!"

No answer. Well, if one overlooked the snicker in the kitchen. Yamcha threw a glare towards the flame-haired alien that watched the scene in amusement.

"I didn't know it was chow time! What's for dinner?"

Bulma continued to glare at him, causing him to take another gulp. Brother, he had goofed up this time. Not that dwelling on this would help him. He suddenly began to realize that his life would soon be void, and not even the great Goku himself would be able to save him from a very pissed off Bulma.

Oh yeah, he was dead.

The blue in her eyes took on an intensity that he had only seen few times before. It was almost as though she was trying not to shoot electricity out of them. It was as if she was containing some Earth-shattering powers. He knew this look well. It had scarred him, emotionally, and was about to mark him again. Yamcha shot a "Help me!" look to the three in the kitchen, begging for some means of escape.

Vegeta continued to look amused. Mrs. Briefs kept shoveling more food onto Vegeta's plate. And Mr. Briefs, ever the one to stay out of things, buried his nose deeper into the latest issue of his "Mechanics Weekly" magazine.

"Look, Bulma, I'm sorr-"

"Don't even start! How could you? How _dare_ you forget that we had a date tonight…AGAIN! What the hell is wrong with you Yamcha?" Bulma had long since held the poker at her side, weakly fingering it in an attempt to analyze it's usefulness in the situation.

"What's wrong with ME?" started the man, suddenly angering. "What the hell is wrong with you? You do realize that this is my only way to make money to take you out on a date to begin with!"

"Oh don't come to me with that bull, Yamcha. You and I both know that you still have millions of zenni saved up in that pathetic bank account!"

Yamcha suddenly glared, taking a huge step towards the woman. She held her ground, dangerously narrowing her eyes. The clanks of chopsticks against plates died out. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? Had I known that we had a game today, I would've rescheduled with you-"

"Yeah, and this would've been the fourth time!"

"It's not like I do it on purpose!"

Bulma spun around, tossing the poker on the couch. "I find that hard to believe," she whispered, her back still turned to him. "How can you not know when a game is? And why couldn't _you_ just call me, instead of having Akira do it for you?"

Yamcha guiltily shoved his hands into his jean pockets, vaguely aware that the occupants of the kitchen were still watching the two bickering adults. "Well, he had rushed me to the field. And then there were fans." He winced when he saw her tense up. "There was no way I could've talked to you while trying to escape the crowds."

Bulma felt her anger subside slightly. Disappointment soon followed. "Why am I not surprised," she ground out, walking to the kitchen to take her seat at the table again.

Vegeta's left eyebrow shot up in wonder. Wasn't it painfully clear that her idiotic weakling had forgotten? Couldn't anyone else see through his pathetic lies?

The tall warrior scratched the back of his head, taking only a few steps into the kitchen. "This wasn't exactly why I came here. Tien, Chaotzu, and I are heading to the desert to train for a bit. We all need a bit of peace, relaxation, and definitely some practice to keep from losing our abilities all together. I came back to get Puar. We leave tonight."

He approached the table, standing behind Bulma. Grasping her shoulders, he leaned down to offer a misplaced kiss on the cheek. Bulma only stiffened again, making the tall, scarred warrior sigh in surrender. There would be no forgiveness before he left. It would just have to wait until he got back.

And with these thoughts, he turned and exited the kitchen.

* * *

With the last repetition of his one-handed push-ups in sight, Vegeta let out a full-fledged grin. The old man had decided to test the back-up codes for the GR in its main computer, and had opened to door for the Prince to train under 400 times Earth's gravity. 

Kakarot, here I come!

The difference between the usual 350 and 400 was painfully evident. He had only reached the max 350 nearly three days ago, and already he was pushing 50 g's more. Sweat oozed from every pore. Every muscle screamed with the effort of the unusual, added pressure. He wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't move anything tomorrow. Not that this was necessarily a good thing. Vegeta kept in mind that the sooner he reached his Super status, the sooner he could perfect it, and, in effect, the sooner he could confront Kakarot. What joy.

Standing upright, he felt the gravity claw at him, trying to pull him down to kiss the floor. With a determined sneer, he powered up slightly, wanting to continue on with his next phase of training: ki-enhancement. The bots readily obeyed his command, taking up their defensive position. Shooting a slightly powerful energy ball at one bot, he watched as the ball bounced between the four bots. He floated easily in the air, slowly, but surely getting used to the thick air of the GR.

The red ki was suddenly flung at him, and he sluggishly dodged it, grasping at his side as the searing heat barely missed wounding him. Agitated, he shot another blast, watching as the bots flung them between one another a bit faster than before. Still on the cool, metal floor of the room, Vegeta watched, anticipating it being thrown at him again.

Soon, it was shot towards him, and his eyes widened as he realized that he was much too spent to dodge it. "No!" he grit out, firing a blast at it in an attempt to shoot it back. He managed to send it back towards the bots, melting and destroying the equipment that had nearly claimed him.

Vegeta blinked as the female computerized voice warned him of a system overload. He muttered a few curses, vaguely wondering why he still had to fend off the energy ball. The brightness in the room grew to an intensity he couldn't stand, and he threw his arms in front of his face, hoping to somehow protect his body from the explosion that was soon to follow.

Debris began to fall from the ceiling, one landing on the head of the unsuspecting Prince, knocking him out cold.

Bulma started when she felt the sudden shakes of the ground. Her usually chipper mother shrieked something about earthquakes, and held on to her husband for her life. All three managed to run towards the back of the dome, where the shakes intensified, and made it just in time to see bright gulps of energy consume the GR. Bulma's eyes widened as she tried to shield them from the overly bright power.

The ground became still, and the light dispersed. Her father's gasp brought her back to the reality that in order for it to blow like that, someone had to have been using it. "Vegeta," she murmured, wondering if his life had been claimed by the metal scraps before her. "Oh no!" Bulma exclaimed, sprinting off to the metal mountain, despite her father's warnings about it still being dangerous.

"He can't be dead," she whispered, tossing anything that she could to the side, or over her shoulder. Oh sure, they had had their spats, threatened each other, flung things (at least from her end), and even nearly-hated each other's very existence. But for him to be dead? She did not wish it to be so. Bulma knew, that deep down, if Vegeta was gone, then life on Earth would be rather unbearable.

And so she pushed on, lifting sheets of metal with her bare hands, ignoring the nicks and cuts that formed. Her only goal was to keep going, to hope to at least save him, if need be. No one deserved to die like this. Not even him. Was he even alive? She had been pulling things, along with her parents, off of the never-ending heap.

Fifteen minutes had already passed. Her father had long since given up ever finding the body. Yes, that was what Vegeta was now labeled as.

A body.

As in dead.

As in, never coming back.

Sure, they could wish him back. But who would? Next to Goku and herself, Bulma knew that not one other soul would lift a finger to find the dragon balls in order to wish back the surly man. He was still their enemy. He still wanted to defeat Goku.

Bulma rocked back on her heels, landing with an 'Oomph!' on her butt in the grass. Her mind began to swim, consumed in her own thoughts about how life had not been fair to pretty much anyone associated with their little band of warriors. Everyone had died at least once!...well, except for Gohan, Chichi, and herself. And now…even their enemy/ally was gone.

A shriek from her mother shook her easily from the all-consuming thoughts. "Nani?" Bulma gaped at the hand that was sticking out from the metal, struggling to find some solid support to grasp. She slowly made her way towards that part of the destroyed GR, stumbling over cylinders and wires that half hazardly suck out. The hand finally found a strong base, and with a flex, pulled out an arm, a shoulder, and finally, its whole upper body.

"Vegeta! You're-you're alive?" Bulma gasped out, watching as he freed himself from the rest of the wreckage.

"Of course I am," he grumbled, his voice wavering as he tried to stand. He fell back unceremoniously, glaring up at the overhang of the GR. Again, he sat up, shaking his head to clear it. Bulma let out a sigh, sinking to her knees in the sharp ground beneath her. Anger flaring, she came to her senses as she surveyed the yard.

"You BAKA! You almost destroyed my house!" she threw her hand behind her, watching as his tired eyes looked to the tall dome in front of him. He tried to stand, only to fall back down.

Bulma winced, realizing that he was pretty much out if it. "You're hurt," she stated, lifting up his upper body to hold it. "I don't need your help. I need to keep training! I'll be fine, human, just let me go!"

"Yeah, ok, everyone knows you're a tough guy. You just need to rest," she smiled down at him, watching as he blinked up in shock at her. His eyes flashed with something for a moment, before returning to the cold, dark pools they had always been. Easily, the Prince shoved her to the side, attempting to stand. "You will not keep me from training. I've got to…keep..goin-"

The Briefs let out a collective gasp as Vegeta limply fell over.

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**_A/N: Well, there's another chapter! Hope y'all liked it. I really do think that the infamous "GR Explosion" scene didn't change much between timelines. And Yamcha leaving to train? Train for what?, you might ask. Well, you'll see._**

**_Thanks to the fantastic reviewers who reviewed and Story Alert-ed this fic! And a VERY special thanks to VeryShortMidget for BETA-ing!!_**

**_Till next time...Read and review!_**

**_-Pearl3_**


	3. Reach for You

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**Chapter Three: Reach For You**

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With a groan, the Prince of all Saiya-jins took in his surroundings. He had been in this area of the Capsule Corp. on various occasions, and even found it to be, strangely, a part of his life. So as he stayed on the uncomfortable bed in the med wing of CC, he racked his brain for any semblance of what had happened. What had landed him here in the first place anyway?

Oh right. Four-hundred times Earth's gravity had given out on him. Vegeta rolled his eyes, glad for the experience, but angered that it had been cut so short. He coughed and yanked the oxygen mask off of his face, tossing it to the other side of the bed. Crossing his arms proved to be an effort, but after a few seconds of trying, his arms regained the motions to do so.

The soft 'click' of heels on the hallway alerted him. Great, company. The woman and her father appeared, apparently relieved to see him awake, and nearly in his same, old spirits. He scowled. "No, I'm not dead, so you can stop staring at me like that!"

Dr. Briefs chuckled, while Bulma glared. "Well excuse us for worrying about your comatose ass!" She stomped over to the computer, snatching the readout from the printer. Vegeta's eyes narrowed. "Comatose?"

"You've been out for about five days, my boy," the doctor cut in, observing the readings over his daughter's shoulder. The stifled choke from the bed drew their attention in.

"Surely, you're joking," Vegeta responded, eyes narrowing. Bulma placed a hand on her hip, regarding him with mild attention. "Five days. Get over it. Thankfully that's given your body time to heal a bit, but you're still not 100 functional."

Vegeta's eye twitched. Like being anything less than completely healthy had ever affected him before. He sat up, rubbing his sore neck. The old man objected, but the Prince swatted the offending hands away. "I've wasted enough time here. I need to get back to training." As he stood, he couldn't shake the looks the woman was sending him. Something akin to worry, even pity, flooded her eyes. The look continued to fuel his anger and annoyance.

"What?" he said, rather loudly, but not caring really.

She shook her head at him, sending wavy blue hairs flying slightly behind her. He wondered how he had noticed, but inwardly smirked when he reminded himself that it was hard not to notice that a giant, blue, fluff ball of hair wasn't attached to her head.

"For starters, the GR isn't done yet."

His scowl deepened.

"Secondly, you aren't in any condition to train anyway. To do so would result in further injury. In short, you'd be wasting more time here, and not getting any better."

Vegeta scrunched up his nose in mild indignation. Ok, so the woman had a point. Training now, and getting even worse off, would put him more behind schedule than he already was. Yay. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and began to wonder if the rumbling noises really were coming from his stomach.

The woman shot him a small smile that he chose to ignore. "Mom has some food ready in the kitchen." He nodded, following them towards the feast that was sure to be waiting.

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Bulma stared at the capsule in her hand, feeling slightly guilty. She had lied to her live-in houseguest, outright told him that the GR wasn't ready. The woman was rather surprised that her father hadn't jumped in and told Vegeta that the GR had been fixed three days ago.

"It just didn't seem right," he had told her, later on when she had been alone with him. True, it wasn't right for the still-healing Saiya-jin to start training under extreme circumstances. No need to have a repeat of the GR taking out half of her mother's garden, as well as making him come seriously close to the kiss of death.

No thanks.

She turned the capsule over in her hand, absently fingering the number and design model. Bulma had hoped against hope that Vegeta would heed their advice, and thankfully, he had obeyed. Almost, anyway. She could still hear him running around the yard, doing some katas and random other exercises that she couldn't name.

What had her worried was the feelings that the young woman was having towards him. No, she wasn't having any desirous emotions, even though he was somewhat handsome, but rather, she was starting to like him.

As a person.

As a…_friend_.

It was nearly impossible to think of him as a friend. She deposited the capsule on her vanity and began to brush her hair. Maybe it wasn't wholly impossible to think of his being a friend, but rather, his regarding others as friends. Perhaps that was the problem with everyone else. They still saw him as the enemy.

He saw _them_ as enemies.

She blinked at her reflection in the mirror. They didn't understand him, the other warriors in their group. Did she? Maybe. The blue-eyed woman began to realize the character behind the mask. Her father had even pointed it out before the explosion that had further enlightened her. Vegeta was determined.

Nothing could deter him from his goal. Throw a mountain in his way? He'd either blast it or climb over it. No matter what conditions, or obstacles, or murderous aliens appeared, the Prince would always press on. Yes, one had to admire that in him. Most people were easily dissuaded when faced with the first hardship. No, he would never lose a war…a battle, maybe, no one was invincible after all.

Except for Goku, she added mentally, shaking her head as the waves of blue began to settle more into the straightened locks she was used to. Oh well, it wasn't as though the hairstyle had remained popular. It was quite dated.

"Speaking of dated things," she said to herself, hearing the back door shut with force. She allowed a small smile to ease on to her face as her thoughts drifted towards the Prince once again.

Maybe that's what he really needed most…a friend. Or at least someone to confide in, to trust. Eh, scratch that. She doubted he would be willing to trust any of them, especially with not knowing them very long, and having just recently being sent as the angel of death. Bulma sighed, feeling a kinship with him that she hadn't felt with anyone else for a long time.

'_He's alone,'_ she thought, a sad look coming across her features. It wasn't necessarily that he wanted company, or desired friends. He seemed quite content to be by himself. But how awful it was, to grow up in fear, always watching your back for the day that your number would come up before Kami.

And yet, she was alone as well. She understood, probably better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. Vegeta didn't need a friend, she realized. Or at least, not a friend that would shower him with pity. He _hated_ pity. What he needed was encouragement. His goal was to live up the legends that his people had held in high esteem since the dawn of time. The Prince needed that boost….and she would help him.

Sure, she was probably signing her death warrant, knowing full well that as soon as he was strong enough, Vegeta would confront Goku. If her long-time friend lost, it would be over. All of it. Earth would be another pile of space dust, floating helplessly in the dark, never-ending void. If Vegeta lost, well, what was he to do? Train more? Live in the shadow of Goku till he died? Leave for space? Hell, she'd miss him if he did.

"WHAT?" she shrieked, appalled at the last thought that had trailed from her mind. Sure, life would be boring, but it would be slightly safer. She winced, realizing that she was contradicting herself on levels that shouldn't even exist. The woman made up her mind in that moment, though. If she could just get through that thick, Saiya-jin skull, perhaps the Earth had a chance.

Maybe she could help Goku too.

Maybe she could warn him, get his advice.

Maybe she could get Vegeta to change his mind…

Her right, bright, blue eye twitched. She held no such hopes. But maybe he could ease the punishments he had promised Earth nearly six months ago, when he had returned. Bulma wasn't sure what she could do, but hell, it was worth a try.

Wasn't it?

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**A/N: Short, sweet, and to the point. I still have about 5 pre-written chapters left that I hope to post. Sorry for the long wait. It seems I have lost yet another beta. Maybe I'll just post without one and go back and re-edit stuff once I do have one. Anywho, REVIEW please! They are much appreciated :D**


	4. Terrified

**Chapter Four: Terrified**

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Vegeta was pissed beyond belief. One month after he had resumed his training (and after the GR explosion), he had been able to reach 400 times Earth's gravity with ease. He then moved on to 450. And what happened when he hit this monumentous number?

A circuit in the GR's main computer fried. Just like that. One interruption had been one too many, but to have this, this _technicality_ was almost too much to bear! He rounded the corner that led to all of the main labs of Capsule Corp., holding the still smoking motherboard in his hands.

Kicking the door open to the woman's lab had earned him a surprised gasp, followed by a dark glare. This reaction, as satisfactory as it had been, only agitated him. He was not in the mood for any verbal spars, entertaining as they may be.

"Let me guess," she began, pushing away from her PC and walking towards her desk. He stopped in front of it, a passive look on his face. "You pushed the button too hard?" The woman's haughty attitude grated against his nerves, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. He easily tossed it in front of her, watching, from peripheral vision, as important looking papers and blueprints scattered on the floor. A triumphant smirk flashed across his features before it settled into its usual scowl.

"Fix it." It was a command, quite a simple one to follow. But was she going to?

"No." She mirrored his crossed-arm stance, leaning heavily on one leg, thrusting out her hip. His eyes flicked to the movement for a split second, before he fixed her with an angered gaze. "If I remember correctly, you're supposed to fix all of my equipment."

"And if I remember correctly, I said that I would not be your slave-woman."

They exchanged heated glares, quite common for any discussion dealing with Bulma having to fix Vegeta's toys. To put it simply, she was fed up. Fed up with tinkering with ideas every day, fixing bots, only to have them destroyed, and, worst of all, not receiving one "thank you" for all of her long, wasted hours.

What happened to being nice to him? Showing him that there was more to Earth than idle weaknesses and stupidity? She had shown the idea to the door, and shot it as it ran off into the sunset. Screw being nice to someone who's idea of thanks was not having your planet blown to bits before your eyes.

"Fix it," he demanded, emphasizing each word as he took a firm step towards her. Bulma felt her heart pause for a moment, her brain screeching at her to just placate the man and move on with her healthy life. But she couldn't do it. Everything that she stood for screamed louder than the sane part of her mind, and she knew that if she gave in without a fight, she'd never be able to look at herself in the mirror again.

She tightened her stance, her arms visibly flexing with what muscles she had developed during her adventures with Goku. Vegeta was a bit intrigued, as no one had ever dared oppose him openly. "It would be to your benefit," he stated, taking another step towards the silent woman, "to comply with my wishes. Don't make me repeat myself." Bulma's own scowl deepened, as she found herself pinned against her computer desk. Dammit all!

Shaking her head, she noted that she was indeed taking her life into her own hands. Not that it mattered anyway, for the look being sent to her by the villainous alien before her caused her to shudder.

Faster than she could blink, his hand wrapped around her neck, lifting her slightly off the ground. His grip wasn't crushing her windpipe, surprisingly, but offered just enough pressure to intensify his point.

She would not defy him again. He gave a sure squeeze as he caught her eyes with his own, darkened glare. "You don't seem to realize how kind I am being by simply asking you to do this. I could very well destroy this whole planet and be rid of everyone on this worthless waste of space." He tightened his grip slightly, watching with a surprising uneasiness as the woman grasped at his wrist pathetically.

Satisfied that his point had been made clear, he loosened his grip completely, depositing her on the cool, metal floor. Wide blue eyes stared up at him as she tenderly held her throat, rubbing it in an attempt to ease the weird soreness. Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the computer component still on the desk. He flicked his dark eyes to meet hers, pleased that she was getting his message. She stood up, obviously shaken, but composed herself quickly. Needless to say, the Prince was slightly impressed.

Only slightly.

"I'll hafta assess the damage," she managed, gulping at the steely look he was sending her. "If it can't be salvaged, I'll send out to one of the factories and get a replacement here ASAP."

Vegeta glared down at the piece of wires and metal. Just his luck to have another stupid interruption, and one that he couldn't even speed along. He'd already scared the woman shitless, and it didn't look as though doing anymore damage to her mind would get things done quicker.

Turning on his heel, Vegeta stomped out of the lab facilities, angered, annoyed, and even slightly put off at the fact that he had to go so far as to carry out one of his threats against the woman. He paused, mid-stride, wondering why such a simple and rather bloodless action had stuck to his mind longer than it needed to. The Prince shook his head, tossing the thought into the "things to think over later" pile of his mind. He would continue training around the compound, and would approach the woman later about the status of his beloved GR. "Stupid humans," he growled, exiting into the yard for the beginning of his meditations.

* * *

Bulma happily scooped up a spoonful of her favorite ice cream and ate it with such relish at its taste. It wasn't often that she had allowed herself to enjoy such fattening items, but then again, it wasn't often that she had stared death in the eyes.

Literally.

She had opted to not tell anyone of Vegeta's treatment towards her. The heiress was willing to admit that she had pushed him towards such an extreme, and had only slightly deserved it. But she was no fool, and had gone from scared to pissed over the course of one hour. She should've kicked him where it counts, but then doubted he would've even felt it. He was the man of steel afterall.

Dr. Briefs entered the TV room, praising her on the latest set of 'prints for Vegeta's newest toy. Bulma waved him off while lowering the volume on the TV. "It really wasn't anything dad. We don't necessarily have any indestructible steel or anything, but the stronger I make the bot's defenses, the less work I'll have to do later." Her father smiled, petting the kitty on his shoulder.

"That's good to hear dear! I suppose we'll just have to entertain him with these little things, keep him out of our hair. Though I am surprised that he's not in the GR tonight."

Bulma 'hmphed', jumping slightly when she felt Scratch land on her shoulder. "He killed the motherboard for the GR earlier today. I've sent out an order to East City to get in a spare part I need." Her father rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking around the room.

"Really? We don't have it here?"

The blue-haired woman shook her head, more absorbed in the movie now than her father's words. "No, I called the factory, but they said East City distributes them faster because they're stored there anyway." Dr. Briefs shrugged, knowing that each factory had its own mechanical specialty.

"Alright then Bulma, I'm heading off to bed. I've got a business trip in South City tomorrow. I'll be back on Saturday."

She blinked, immediately turning in her comfy seat to look at her father. "Saturday? But today's Tuesday!"

"Yes, I know. I figured it would be nice to take your mother out for a slight vacation. No need to worry about any work building up; most of it should be taken care of anyway." He walked away, going on about how much of a treat it would be for him and his wife to finally get away for a bit.

Bulma, however, heard nothing of it. To have to be alone in the big house was enough of a punishment, as nothing new or exciting was happening. And to have to be alone with Vegeta? For four whole days? She could hardly fathom the thought. Instantly she squashed the bit of fear that began to flood her senses. There was no way—an ice cube's chance in hell really—of her hiding away from the sour man.

But as the kitchen's back door to the yard flung open, and immediately slammed shut, she couldn't help but feel at least a bit terrified. Four whole days. She shook her head. Maybe she should invite the Son's over…

"Well?" the gruff voice insisted, hovering behind her on the couch.

"The part should be in tomorrow," she huffed, turning the volume back up on the TV. The flame-haired alien's eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing more as he trudged upstairs for his shower. There wasn't much else to be done anyhow.

The woman let out a sigh, taking another heaping spoonful of the ice cream, and consumed its comforting goodness. Four days. She could handle it. Definitely.

* * *

**A/N: So sorry! Hope it was enjoyable and worth the wait. Maybe I can work on it this summer. Sadly, I just don't have that much of a will to want to write more. I suppose I need motivation.**


	5. Four Walls

**Chapter Five: Four Walls**

* * *

Rock-pop-ish music blared from the speakers of the outdoor radio. Bulma sang along here and there, hoping that the music would provide a means of escape from the insane amounts of screws that had to be taken out from the computer console of the GR. Few moments in life ever placed the woman under the housing compartment of the computer. Most of her work was usually done on the generator, in an effort to add any necessary ingredients to keep the whole capsule from imploding with the added amounts of gravitational pressure.

She absently wiped at her cheek, feeling some dust particle land there. The part she had needed to replace in the motherboard had arrived only an hour ago. Immediately, the young woman had set out to place the whole "brain" together, and well, here she was, wasting a nice afternoon. Suddenly, she wondered why she had to have been gifted with brains. What was the use? She hadn't invented anything devastatingly world-changing, not recently anyway. Her talents and youth were now being devoted to a man who lived off of a vision.

Not that this was necessarily a bad thing. Bulma had long since thrown away any mental label of him being insane. They were all insane. Those who could be classified as "sane" were technically "insane", and so on and so forth. Why complicate things further?

She jolted at the sudden attack on her foot. The organism that had kicked her shoe would pay! She muttered a curse, having just been shaken out of thoughts by reacting in a way that caused her to bash her head off of the loose motherboard. Her blue eyes scanned the area in front of her, and she was met with a pair of worn training sneakers.

"Grr, what do you want prick?!"

The man in question crossed his arms, ignoring the address of "prick" and instead chose to squat down to meet the woman's gaze. She looked slightly startled, but still pissed, as she held her forehead with enough pressure to pop it off.

"Are you done yet?" he questioned, glancing once at the pile of screws that was next to her hip.

"What do you think," she replied hotly, still seeing stars. She made a mental note to get used to something random popping up, like an ass of an alien. But as she continued to place the screws in their respective holes, twisting them into place, she began to forgive the intrusion on her thoughts.

You couldn't really blame the man for his "greeting", if one could even call it that. No doubt he probably used to punch his fellow warriors to get their attention. And he hadn't really kicked her…it only seemed like one because it had, quite frankly, scared the piss out of her.

He certainly had a habit of doing that.

She scowled, setting the last screw in its place, and wiggling out from underneath the console. Easily, the panel slid back into its original place, and she stood back, using a rag to wipe off the excess grease she had used to slide the motherboard in. Piece of cake. "There," she stated, smiling slightly to herself. "Good as new. The last one needed some working on, so I suppose that's why it gave out on you."

Vegeta nodded once, thumbing in the direction of the door. "Out," he growled, eager to get back his training. Bulma opened her mouth to retort and bitch about not receiving any thanks, but shut it back close. There was no use in riling up the Prince, as fun as it would seem. Images of him strangling her floated to the forefront of her mind, and she knew, without a doubt, that she was not ready to be on the receiving end of pain. Not now, not ever. She shrugged the feelings off, picking up her scattered tools, and exited the GR.

* * *

"Great, dinner time." In all reality, she knew how to cook. Today however, she was not in the mood to even start cooking a meal, let alone a feast. There was no possible way on this great planet that she could prepare a meal fit for a Saiya-jin in two hours. At least, she hoped it would be two hours. Eh, pizza would have to do.

After startling the pizza place with her order of 25 large pizzas, of all varieties, and one small vegan pizza, she flopped down on the couch and picked up the latest issue of "Science Weekly". Thumbing through the commercials, she finally landed in the table of contents. Her eyes skimmed over the page with a passive look, as she really didn't care to read about ideas that had been formed hundreds of years ago. But as she hit the "Main Articles" section, her eyes caught the title of "Where's he gone to?: Dr. Gero's contribution to science". Bulma's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Dr. Gero? As in the crazy old kook from the Red Ribbon Army? The one Goku let live? She rolled over onto her back, wildly flipping through the magazine to reach the article. Blue eyes alight with wonder, she read the article aloud:

"Anyone ever wonder what happened to that old army we had grown up with as kids? No one is quite sure what happened to the Red Ribbon Army, and neither is anyone surprised that they've been disbanded for quite some time. But as we looked over recent progessions in science from the past two decades, one contributor stood out.

"Where is Dr. Gero? What ever happened to him? He had made such investments in military materials, as to improve the means of this country's defense. But he's been on hiatus for over a decade! Not many are too sure on ways to contact him, though it's been said his lab is somewhere near the mountains of North City. With such wonderful inventions and contributions, one has to wonder why he hasn't come out with anything new yet. Or maybe he's waiting for the most opportune time to reveal his latest inventions…"

Bulma skimmed over the rest of the article, not really caring to read the rest of his praises and achievements. She was rather curious though. Where _had_ he gone to? No doubt he had held a grudge towards the only man, then a boy, who had single-handedly destroyed the world's strongest army. The woman let out a soft laugh, tossing the magazine back on to the coffee table. Who cares anyway? He was an insane, old bastard, and thankfully no longer held the power to conquer the planet.

Used to the abrupt means of opening doors lately, Bulma did not jump when she heard it slammed shut. Instead she folded her arms behind her head, lazily waiting for the pizza guy to come with her dinner. Err, their dinner. She looked up, and fought to hold back the giggles that threatened to spill forth. Vegeta, probably not bothering to care that she was lying on the couch, had slung half of his body over the back of said couch, face buried in its soft comforts. It was an unnatural thing for him to do, and, she added mentally, was quite astonishing. He was within a foot of her and hadn't hurt her or said some smart-ass comment.

"Training went well, I take it."

He turned his head slightly towards her, though his face was still squished against the couch. At least he had given her _some_ attention! A grunt with a positive tone reverberated from his throat. She smirked. "I guess you also played with the new bot, and tried out the new level of gravity." Another grunt. Indeed he had tasted the wonders of 500 g's. Granted, he had nearly squashed himself against the floor of the GR like a roach, but at least he knew that he could survive it. More training would have to be done under 400 before he could move on.

Bulma let out a laugh before flicking his ear, something she had picked up from her father. The slightly taller man reeled back, obviously annoyed that his rest had been disturbed, and even more so that his guard had been down. He glared at her for a moment before his head jerked towards the door. "Someone's here." The woman, still flat out on the couch, looked at him questioningly. The door bell rang and soon she stalked off to answer it. Vegeta looked longingly at the unoccupied space, suddenly spent. He guessed it wouldn't hurt to lie down for a bit, especially since his training was actually going somewhere.

The woman re-entered the living room, surprised that her spot had been claimed by none other than the Prince. She carried seven pizza boxes, one being hers, and placed them on his flat stomach. He raised an eyebrow at her before regarding the boxed meals.

"Bon appetite," Bulma grinned, sitting in the easy chair next to his feet. The tired man sat up, opening the first box and indulging in its contents. Pizza had never been his absolute favorite, but it was better than having to rely on the unknown cooking powers of the Earth woman. No telling how well she could cook, or if she even would for that matter. She seemed to be too used to the pampered life he now found himself in.

This could be a bad thing. The further he entertained his thoughts, the worse they appeared. He was getting too soft. Oh sure, he had only lived on this planet for a short time, but he was relaxing too much. Not to say that he trusted the family he lived with, but he found himself co-existing with them in a positive light. It was painfully obvious that the woman's parents trusted him greatly, the mother more so than the father. Even this creature beside him had to trust him a bit.

Well, probably even less, especially after last night…

But the worst part of it all was, unfortunately, that he knew, he _knew_ he was giving them the tiniest amount of trust. Why else would he eat the old woman's food without having one of them taste-test it first? He highly doubted that she was smart enough to poison his food, but this emphasized his mental point. Vegeta trusted her visible appearance of stupidity.

Aw, hell.

It was settled then; he did let his guard down a bit around them, only because he had no other choice. Bulma's father treated him more like a wonderful, living, breathing experiment—one that he could run checks on and see how certain training techniques worked. Vegeta let out a small snort. At least, the old man had wanted to test him. The flame-haired man had presented the old buzzard with a light threat. The blonde air-head regarded him as family. Bulma…well, she probably thought of him as another dummy to pester. He scowled at the thought. She hadn't really bothered him much lately, but hell, her very presence was annoying.

Bulma's eyebrows slowly began to go northward, as she took in Vegeta's thoughtful form. He ate his meal mechanically, and she had long since brought the rest of the boxes to the coffee table for his consumption. She had the sudden, suicidal urge to sneak up behind him and scare the piss outta him, but self-preservation kicked in. Oh well, maybe next time.

"Must you continue staring at me in that manner?" Bulma jumped, completely caught off guard. Had she been staring at him? She shrugged, dusting off her pants in an effort to re-occupy her mind. Perhaps she had gotten too carried away in her thoughts. But the feeling of eyes still on her brought her gaze up.

"What?" she asked, feeling slightly self-concious. Vegeta only huffed out something insulting—she hadn't really grasped the phrase, but deduced its intention by his demeanor—and placed the very last empty pizza box on its respective pile.

The phone suddenly buzzed with its shrill ring, sending Vegeta off in annoyance, and making Bulma want to disassemble it. "Hello," she stated, tucking the phone between her shoulder and her face. Expertly, she balanced the two piles of boxes in her hands, deciding to deposit it outside the kitchen doors. Some cleaning bot would get to it.

"Hey B!" came the female voice from the other end. Bulma offered a small smile, instantly recognizing Chichi's shrill, but welcome voice.

"Hey Chi, what's up?" The women hadn't spoken to each other in six months, about the duration of Vegeta's stay. In fact, they had stopped speaking to each other for that very reason—Chichi, because she couldn't understand why Bulma would ever welcome him back with open arms, and Bulma, because she was pissed that Chichi had second-guessed her opinion on the matter. Vegeta wanted to fight Goku. Goku never lost. End of story. Apparently, Chichi had gotten over Bulma's harboring their future "assassin".

"Oh nothing really. I figured you might want a little chat, or girl time, especially since you've got _him_ with you." She sniffed slightly, making Bulma frown a bit.

"I guess I could use some downtime. Today was filled with serving his highness' every need…I'm pooped." They shared a small laugh. "Of course, I don't have to tell you what it's like to deal with a Saiya-jin; you've got two of your own."

"Huh, don't I though! But it's not all that bad. As a matter of fact, that's another topic I'd like to hit with you!" _'Great,'_ Bulma thought, chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully. _'All she's going to do is yap on about how awfully busy Goku's been with training, how Gohan skips his tutoring, and how she's suffering quietly through it all.'_ It wasn't that Bulma didn't like Chichi, she was pretty nice once you got used to her. They had just never been close. Chichi was housewife material. Bulma knew that she could never be. So, while the raven-haired wife went on and on about how hard her job was, Bulma could only absently listen. With no experience of her own under her belt, she'd just have to take the woman's word for it.

"Why don't you just come on over," Bulma said, grabbing a chilled water bottle from the fridge. "I sure could use the company. Mom and dad are outta town till Saturday." Vegeta chose that moment to storm in, freshly showered, with a towel around his neck. Apparently he had, in fact, just waltzed in out of the shower, as beads of water still clung to his muscled chest and firm back. The scientist's eye twitched. Her thoughts were lingering too long on just how manly the Prince was. She shook her head, watching as he finally picked out a sports drink from the fridge. He eyed her momentarily, regarding her with a thoughtful, yet stoic look.

"Bulma, are you there?" Said woman blinked once before sputtering out an answer.

"Yeah, sorry. Speak of the devil, haha. Just come on over, I'd love to see you guys again!" She took another gulp out of her water bottle, once again finding a certain uneasiness settling in her stomach. Chichi told her that they would be right over, and both women ended the call.

Her housemate rose an eyebrow at her, making her wonder what the hell he wanted. She asked him. "I take it that the harpy was on the phone." Bulma crossed her arms, unknowingly making her bust seem just that much bigger. "And?" Vegeta let out an annoyed sigh.

"I don't want Kakarot and his idiotic family near me." He set his drink down on the counter next to Bulma, effectively able to cross his arms.

"Then go to your room," she answered, already feeling the beginnings of an argument. He bared his teeth, canines looking too damned pointy for her liking.

"I will go where I please. Need I remind you that the whole point of me even being on this grain of sand is to defeat Kakarot. He should not be near me until the time of our battle takes place. Nor do I think it wise to have his harpy mate and half-breed brat around here. They're probably coming to spy on me, if anything." Bulma's eyes widened slightly. What was it with him and being suspicious of a simple, little visit? Granted, it's all unexpected, but still. Goku wouldn't play dirty. It simply was not in his nature.

She tucked a few loose strands of blue hair behind her ear and leveled her eyes at him. "Would you just stop being paranoid?" The effect of her words soured the feeling of the room more. Vegeta's face darkened more, if that were even possible. He sent a glare with so much malice behind it that Bulma couldn't help the small shudder. The Prince then swiftly turned around, marching towards the door to exit the kitchen. "I don't want him near me," he threw over his shoulder.

Bulma yanked her bottle back up, seething in the absence of the stupid ape. Just when they were able to be in each other's presence for five minutes without fighting…oi vey. It was like he had built all of these barriers to keep everything and everyone locked out. He wouldn't even try to accept 'Kakarot' as a fellow Saiya-jin, all because he hadn't been able to defeat, or kill, the poor goof in their first fight.

Her mind began to list all of the annoying 'barriers' he had: One, he didn't trust anybody. Two, he had that freakishly maddening capacity to leave everything but joy in his wake. Three, he had no positive emotions, nor did he seem to have much of a personality. And four…that blasted pride!

The woman let out an aggravated growl, tossing the now empty bottle into the trash can. All she wanted to do was get through to him! He's so freakin' mysterious to her. There are so many sides to the guy that she could hardly fathom ever being bored with any discovery. He had shown different elements to her…ah, she knew she had to scratch off the "no personality" from her list. To figure him out, though, would be the greatest accomplishment she had ever completed! Well, the second greatest. The first would have come around some time, later on in life.

Turning around, she all but crashed into a wall of muscle. Immediately, she heard the happy laughter of the Son family. "Sorry about that Bulma…I guess I need to add a bit more distance to my landing!" He scratched the back of his head, making Bulma grin cheekily at him. Thoughts of Vegeta could wait till tomorrow…

* * *

**See, I got this chapter out a lot sooner!! FUAH! Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing :D I seriously appreciate the offerings of well-wishing and helping me beat away the Writer's Block. I still have a few chapters of pre-written material left, so I suppose I have to get crackin this summer. I don't want this to linger on forever haha. **

**And yes, I mentioned Dr. Gero here. Why? Well, I honestly don't think that Earth could've forgotten about the guy forever. He seems like an important scientist, even without the Red Ribbon Army. Ohhh the irony, ne? That Bulma should read about him 2.5 years before he releases his "creations" upon the earth...chilling. Anywho, next chapter should spice things up ;) Keep on reviewin' please!**


	6. Iron Bars

**Chapter Six: Iron Bars**

* * *

Goku was worried. Few times he had felt this strange emotion, and usually only because those situations could potentially end up sending him to Otherworld sooner than necessary. Now was no exception.

It wasn't that he was staring death in the face—for death seemed to be seething upstairs in his room—but Goku knew something was up. He could feel it. Something was brewing in the large home that he sat in, and he didn't like it one bit. Maybe it was the fact that Chichi had warned him not to eat the Briefs' out of house and home (and he was eyeing the last two slices of pizza from Bulma's dinner). Or maybe it was the fact that Vegeta masked his ki, slightly. There was an anxious aura about it, almost as if the shorter man was willing him to leave.

The Earth-raised Saiya-jin shrugged to himself. That wasn't bothering him. He listened to his two 'girls' talk and catch up, distracting Gohan from the book he was studying. The demi-Saiya-jin tried to avoid his father's goofy faces, but found it too difficult. Instead, he turned his back to him and faced the opposite wall, hoping to not be his mother's victim for the day. But then, Goku was allowed to pay slightly more attention to Bulma and Chichi. The former was speaking of Vegeta in an agitated voice, but it melted away somewhat as she confirmed that other than the essentials in training, he kept to himself.

"He's seems lonely," she lamented softly, her eyes barely hinting sadness. Chichi quirked an eyebrow, understandably amazed at Bulma's observance. Goku frowned. No doubt, that was the way the Saiya-jin Prince liked it.

"Of course he is!" Chichi sat up straighter, looking Bulma in the eye. "He's a cold blooded killer, B. Nobody wants to be near him. I bet you can just feel the evilness radiating off of him when he walks by—"

Goku cut her off, slightly perturbed at his wife's harsh words. "Give him a break, Chi. He's not a cold blooded killer. That's just the only life he's ever known! And he's not evil…I can sense a bit of good in him."

"A _bit_?! I'm surprised there's even an ounce in there!"

Bulma let out a soft sigh. She didn't want to argue about this, especially since she knew so little of Vegeta's history. Goku obviously knew more than he was willing to tell—he could only shook his head as Chichi's words. In all reality, she would much rather avoid the subject of her alien guest altogether. And he had said that he wanted Goku and family as far from his presence as possible. She supposed that he meant that he didn't want to be discussed either.

"So Gohan," subject changing time, "how goes the studies?"

* * *

He was aware of a certain saying from Earth, something about "curiosity killed the cat". And surprisingly, he felt conspicuous, sitting on the top step of the stairwell, eavesdropping on the Woman and her company. Even more surprising, Kakarot had defended him against the Harpy. Huh, amazing. But he was completely aghast at the most opportune moment the Woman had to shoot him down. His defense was wide open, and she just, well, changed the subject.

They sure didn't make morons like they used to.

Vegeta walked to his room, and right out on to the balcony. It was cloudy out, even at this hour, with this amount of darkness. The moon tried, unsuccessfully, to push through the clouds. He leaned against the railing, catching a glimpse of a few stars here and there. A weird sensation suddenly overcame him, as he rested on his arms against the cold, iron railing.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. Call it warrior's intuition, but the air reeked of something…**evil**. The irony that he should feel something evil did not go unnoticed by him, but he chose to ignore it. He may be evil in its simplest form, but this sort of feeling usually radiated from a being such as…Frieza. Rubbing his right forearm, he scanned the darkened area as far as his sight would allow him. He could be paranoid, especially since Kakarot and company sat comfortably in his living room.

Scratch that.

_Bulma's_ living room. Not his, definitely not so! It didn't matter anyway, it would cease to exist as soon as he had fulfilled his duty: destroying the shame of the Saiya-jin race. A hint of a smirk shadowed his face, giving him a nice, mental image of Kakarot falling, failing to save the planet and his 'friends'.

Fool.

With one more glance, Vegeta surmised his worry and paranoia to a very off day. Why bother to dwell on it more anyway? He shrugged it off and erased it from his mind, walking back in to the solitude of his room. –Solitude? The bed creaked under his weight, his body immediately sprawling out on the cool covers voluntarily. Since when had he ever deemed it as 'solitude' anyway? A sanctuary of peace, yes. Solitude, eh, no.

"Whatever," he muttered, shutting off his thoughts as his eyes fluttered shut.

* * *

Bulma rubbed her arms continuously as she walked down the length of the hallway to her room. The crisp, November night air easily crawled through the halls of the second floor. Not surprising really, especially since Vegeta seemed to enjoy leaving windows and doors open to keep it at his perfect temperature. The chill doubled now, only because Gohan was sleeping peacefully in one of the guest rooms.

Chichi's visit had not been random at all. The younger woman had come to Capsule Corp. in search of a sort of treaty. She had gone on and on about not having been able to pry Goku away from his precious training. That and she had to continually push Gohan to study, as he was turning into a very stubborn little kid. So, with some embarrassment, she asked Bulma if it would be at all possible for her to take Gohan for a few days.

A smile graced the woman's features. She had readily agreed to take Gohan in; he wasn't a bad kid, kept to himself, and had the manners of an angel. Plus, it would do him some good to get away from the insane banshee he called mother. Sure, Chichi was an excellent parent, but brother, her antics were enough to even wear on the ever-patient Goku!

Her door clanked noisily against her wall, making her wince away from her thoughts and the offending noise. She prayed fervently that she hadn't disturbed the other two on the hall. Two grumpy Saiya-jins would be two too many, thankyouverymuch. Bulma tip-toed around, stripping out of her clothes into a nighty-tank-top and shorts to match. She had no idea where her warmer sleeping gear was hidden away, but figured her mother had something to do with it.

The queen-sized bed hugged her as she settled in. Her comforter and sheets instantly warmed her frozen body. "Ah," she sighed, lazily stretching out underneath the piles of heat. Blue eyes began to droop, her mind telling her to drift off into the lull of sleep. She obeyed, hugging an extra pillow as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next sound she heard, as opposed to her alarm, was thunder and tapping. One blue eye opened half-way, blinking sleepily at the wall opposite the balcony. Another clap of thunder made both eyes open. The tapping made her sit up. "What the hell?" She listened more attentively, holding her breath to wait for the tapping. It came again, lighter than before, but there nonetheless. She rolled her eyes, hoping that Scratch hadn't gotten stuck on the roof again. The repetitive tapping began to rub at her sanity. "Fine," she whined, grabbing her white terry-cloth robe off of her vanity chair.

She opened the doors to her balcony, knowing, through experience, that it was faster to get to the roof from her room than it was to walk to the end of the hall, etcetera, etcetera. Peh. The iron ladder looked just as sturdy as it always had, and grabbing it with one arm, she swung her body onto it.

Her eyes lingered on her digital clock as she clung to the ladder. She had only been asleep for 45 minutes! The ladder shook slightly as she gripped it with all of her might. Scratch and her father better appreciate this! She began to climb, step by step, feeling oddly like Spiderwoman, sans wrists that shot webs. How annoying…even the sky began its betrayal. A light sprinkle started. The higher she climbed, the harder the rain began to fall.

Bulma quickly flicked a clump of wet hair out of her eyes. Almost there! She could see the top support of the ladder, and soon she could get away from the rain and into bed. Four more steps…three…..two…..one….finally! Her eyes glided over the area of the roof, looking for any signs of the mischievous little kitty her father adored. Nothing appeared, however. The rain had succeeded in completely drenching her, and as she stood shivering, glaring out over the roof, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Bad sign.

Hair plastered to the side of her face, she turned this way and that, eerily feeling that someone was watching her. The presence became thicker, if that was the right word, and a dark chuckle reached her ears. Scratch was definitely not up here. She shuddered, daring to look up and behind her.

"Oh shii—" she gasped, taking a wobbly step back. The slightly inclined roof was slick with rain, causing her step to turn into a slide. She landed painfully on her backside, eyes never leaving the being in front of her. Memories from Namek played out all too well in that instant. The thunder clapped, and the lightening illuminated the sky, effectively lighting up the alien's profile.

She recognized him, this creature of Frieza's. Her eyes widened as a deadly smirk flashed across his face. It was the same guy Vegeta had fended off…wasn't he supposed to be dead? Her brain screeched to a halt. Vegeta….he would know what to do!

He could save her!...or just stand to the side and laugh as she was mercilessly killed…but who needed those kind of thoughts right now?!

Bulma gulped, summoning the courage to shriek out her only hope, her only lifeline—"VEGETA!"

* * *

**The next chapter might take a bit longer to get out, only because I re-read it for the 5th time and found myself not believing it. PLENTY of OOC in there and it really didn't suit the direction I was heading with this fic at all. It might have to get broken up into two parts, since it's already 8 pages long (the average length of my chapters), and not even half-way over with yet. So review please. Seriously!! REVIEWWWW! It'll motivate me to edit it quickly and get the rest of the chapters up!**


	7. Can't Hold My Soul

**Chapter Seven: Can't Hold My Soul**

* * *

With a start, the Saiya-jin Prince sat up in bed. Faint tappings had captured his attention, but what really shook him was the loud thump that echoed in his room. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was going on. Even worse, he heard the shriek from the Woman soon after, sending him flying from his bed to the wet elements outside. He hadn't the slightest idea why his stomach had clenched when her cry had reached his ears, and in all truth, he really didn't want to know why.

Zipping up to the roof, nearly soaked to the bone, Vegeta floated in only boxers, eyes widened only to a degree as he took in the figures before him. Bulma looked terrified, eyes locked on the being before her, mouth open in shock. His eyes took in the creature that had had a hand in raising him. The alien he was _sure_ he had killed a year or so back on Namek. By all rights, he should've been space dust.

"Well, Vegeta, how nice of you to join us," the alien smirked, dark green eyes hinting at danger. The Saiya-jin stiffened, watching Bulma's movements from his peripheral vision. He had to get her away from the roof, that much he knew. There would be no way that she could remain on their "battlefield". If anything, she would do more harm than good.

He flashed out of sight, making the alien invader's eyes dodge around in wonder. The ki signal soon hit his senses again, causing him to swirl around in time to see Vegeta stand in front of the blue-haired human. He watched in mild amusement, eyes calculating Vegeta's actions. Perhaps he had found a weak spot after all.

The Saiya-jin gripped the human by her shoulders, drawing her up to her feet. "Get inside," he commanded, giving her a gentle shove towards the hatch that lead to the dry, warm comforts of Capsule Corp. Bulma continued to stare ahead, dripping wet, unmoving. Vegeta growled, angered at the obvious display of weakness the woman was showing. He picked her up easily, flashing out of sight again. Depositing her on his own balcony, he gave her a once over. She looked healthy enough, he gauged, immediately leaving her to face off with the man he had never wished to see again.

* * *

Bulma blinked slowly, feeling the warmth leave her immediately. Her mind grasped the light ki trail that faded as Vegeta left her. He had saved her afterall. She shuddered, sickened by her weakness. Even worse, her mind was itching to find out just what was going on in the skies above her home. The woman flinched, knowing that a battle was soon to come.

"I hope he has enough sense," she crossed her arms, suppressing another shiver, "to get the fight away from here."

She nearly shrieked again when she felt a tug on her soaked robe. Twirling around, she let out an audible sigh at the sight of Gohan. "What's going on?" he questioned, eyes gazing out into the dark night. Bulma turned back around, now able to see the face-off that was taking place.

"He's back," she whispered, biting her bottom lip.

"Who?" Gohan stood closer to her, gulping.

"…Zarbon…"

* * *

Annoyed at the wind and the rain, the Prince crossed his arms. Just his luck, to be stuck out in the elements in a pair of boxers, hair out of its flame and sticking to the sides of his face. He glared down the green being before him, willing this nightmare, if that is what it was, to vanish. Oh, how Kami must be having fun today.

Zarbon's smirk deepened. It wasn't often that he could ever find a weakness in the younger man before him, but it seemed as though there _was_ a way through his defenses. Sure, the beautiful human probably didn't mean anything to Vegeta—pleasure wise—but she was obviously of some importance. If memory served him correctly she was supposed to be smart, right? He shrugged. It mattered not. She was a target now, and Vegeta was still as weak as ever. Joy!

With a slight snap to the side, Zarbon whisked his braid behind him, popping his knuckles and cracking his neck. Vegeta's eyebrow twitched. "If you don't mind, I'd like to move along to your death. I'm getting old here!"

"Ever the impatient one," Zarbon chuckled, getting into a stance.

The Saiya-jin followed suit, flicking his defiant spikes away from his face. Stupid rain! "Of course I'm impatient! You're ruining the air quality, and it's already sucky enough on this planet." The alien opposite him growled, lunging for the first hit. With ease, Vegeta dodged the blow, flashing behind him, sending a swift kick to his back. Zarbon let out an "oomph", regaining his composure.

"That will not happen again!" He sped towards the Saiya-jin, fist ready to connect with his target. Vegeta flashed out of sight again, but was anticipated by the enemy. They met in the middle of the sky, Zarbon's fist connecting with Vegeta's face. They hopped away from each other, Vegeta wiping away the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Is that the best you can do?" Taunted the boxer-clad man, grinning with a sinister glee. "I'm sure even Kakarot has given me more of a challenge than you!"

* * *

Bulma felt her skin burn in anger. After all of her crowing and whining about being tired of getting shoved aside in the midst of a battle, here she stood, shivering and doing nothing. It was time to change that. With a determined look, she began to stride towards Vegeta's balcony, pushing the doors open with a burst of strength she didn't realize she had.

Gohan barely had time to catch up with her, shocked with the sudden activity in the room. "Bulma, where are ya goin'?"

Turning around, she slapped her fist into her palm. "I'm not gonna stand by this time, kiddo. It's time I got a hold of my own destiny. It's time I learn how to survive on my own in battle. I may be weak in body, but my mind is sharper than anyone else's on this planet! So fly me up to the ceiling, kid; we've got a world to save!"

The young boy was sure that had she had a greater audience, Bulma would have received a standing ovation for her monologue. It didn't matter really; he felt rather motivated and empowered by her speech, and gathering up the will to help protect his planet, he easily picked Bulma up by her shoulders, darting out into the rain.

* * *

The blue alien's ki peaked as he powered up, yellow ki lighting up the yard of Capsule Corp. Vegeta began powering up as well, feeling an adrenaline rush from the sudden training test. Now he could finally see how well his training was paying off. Maybe he could even reach the status of ascension!

"Too bad Frieza isn't here to see me dispose of you!" Zarbon hovered slightly higher than Vegeta, arms crossed and aura flickering. "You know, he had always been plotting your demise since you became of age."

Vegeta let out a small snort. "No surprise. I'm more surprised that it took him so long to carry it out." He let out a yell as he reached his max. "But right now, all I care about is sending you back to hell!" Both warriors charged towards each other, hits landing, some dodges. Both looked as though they were enjoying themselves, making the Earth shake with their powerful blows.

"Frieza taught you well," Zarbon huffed, pulling back to catch his breath.

Vegeta kept coming with more hits, a kick to the ribs, a chop on the back of the neck. "He taught me nothing, except to hate weaklings like you! GRAH!" More hits.

"I'm surprised! I thought the great Saiya-jin Prince could not be tamed!"

Vegeta paused long enough to get an unanticipated blow, sending him spiraling towards the ground. "Really Vegeta, you are pitiful."

"Grr, what are you yapping on about?"

"This…display of yours. Losing concentration, missing hits, not blocking. Could it be you fear me that much? Or are your thoughts more…pleasantly engaged?"

The Prince, now muddy, peered up at Zarbon from his puddle. "What?! I fear nothing, fool—"

"That may be, but perhaps my latter assumption is correct…" the green-skinned alien trailed off, catching sight of the blue-haired wonder and brat that was coming towards them. Vegeta, noticing the distraction, shot up from the earth, rain pelting his face.

"I fear nothing," he growled, only inches away from Zarbon's face. The Prince sent the latter flying towards the muddied yards of the corporation. He spun around, just in time to meet the airborne duo that floated beside him. "What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"

Bulma sniffled, tucking a thick, wet clump of hair behind her ear. It proved to be a difficult task, with Gohan awkwardly lifting her the way he was, but she couldn't complain too much. "What does it look like moron? We're here to help." She allowed a small smile to flash across her face.

Vegeta felt his eye twitch. "Help? Tch, hardly. You'll only get in the way." He stole a glance towards the ground, noticing that Zarbon was still dazed. It was the perfect opportunity to end it once and for all…but he had a little payback to deal with. "Do me a favor," he mumbled, turning back to Bulma and the brat. He could see her eyes light up a little bit and he felt a bit of a cringe come upon his face. Never mind that. This was a life or death situation. "Get back in the house. And stay there."

The expression on her face deflated slightly and had he been anyone else, he was sure he would've caved in and let her 'help' in some way. But it was true; she would only get in the way and he couldn't afford to have her killed off. His plans for ridding the universe of Kakarot would be forever foiled. Damn.

The woman felt that same burn, deep in her chest. No, not this time! She wasn't going to take another shove from these egotistical muscle heads again. "Huh, fat chance," her blue eyes narrowing as she said this, she wrenched free of Gohan's grasp. Startled, the kid merely looked on in horror as she began to fall to the ground. Ever the quick one, Vegeta darted towards her, capturing her a few feet away from them.

"Have you lost your mind?" he all but yelled, giving her a nice shake for emphasis.

"Maybe," she huffed, thoroughly out of breath. Her heart was still thundering against her chest, and she could practically hear Vegeta's before it slowed to its natural rhythm. The scientist's arms were wrapped securely around the Prince's neck, and she was sure that had he been just a regular human being, his face would be a nice shade of royal blue. "Look", she continued, gathering up the courage to stare the man in the eye, "I'm going to help and you're going to put up with it or else the GR goes!"

Vegeta felt his own dark orbs narrow slightly at the human he held in his arms. He was halfway tempted to drop her and let her fend for herself on the ground with Zarbon (who was still randomly in a daze). But he withheld the urge, instead turning towards Gohan, readying to pass her back. "You WILL go into the house, and you WILL shut up about it. I can't have you dead yet. Sadly you're a necessity for food and the GR and we can't risk your _unfortunate_ death."

Bulma recoiled slightly as if she had been slapped. What a horrible thing to say! She could feel the tears pricking the backs of her eyes, and for the life of her she really couldn't figure out why. Never in her life had someone come out and tell her that she was merely a necessity for survival. Oh sure, she knew that some had felt that way, but even they had been kind enough to tolerate her and her antics and not voice what they all knew to be true. But this guy…this, this prick-ass-bastard! After all she's done for him… "I hate you," she growled, now wanting to be freed of his hold.

"Wh-what?" He looked confused, nearly losing his grip on her as she kicked and flailed to be free of him. His hold only tightened as he began to grow annoyed. "Stop it you whining brat! I've had just about enough of your—"

"GAHH! LOOK OUT!" screeched Gohan, shoving the arguing adults out of the way. He hollered out a 'Masenko-ha', easily deflecting a ki blast that had been headed in their direction.

The Saiya-jin continued to freefall, watching as Zarbon barely managed to duck out of the way of Gohan's blast. It still amazed him how strong the brat was, even for his age and breeding. No matter, he didn't have time to mess around or think really. It was time to end it all.

Firing a one-handed Gallick Gun would feel weird, he was sure, but this was the only way he could battle without dropping the loud-mouthed idiot he held in his right arm. Launching the attack, he still allowed their bodies to float lazily towards the muddy ground, their fall now in his control. All the energy concentrated in one hand felt bulky and awkward, but he shrugged it off as it spiraled towards Zarbon. The evil alien looked slightly shocked and scrambled to move out of the way. Vegeta felt a smirk ease onto his features as his attack lit up the entire compound.

After a moment, Vegeta allowed his freehand to slowly drop and peered around Bulma's head. Using her as a shield from the bright blast hadn't been the smartest thing to do, especially in the midst of a battle such as this, but he couldn't risk the temporary blindness. Blinking a few times, he only saw the charred ground and drifting, dark smoke. Still, something felt odd…and he continued to think so as he felt a fist connect with his chin again, the uppercut causing him to sail backwards and flail his arms about in a meager attempt to break his fall.

Bulma let out a bit of a shriek, falling the rest of the way to the ground. With an "Oomph", she glared at the assailant, blinking away the rain that trickled into her eyes. "You freakin' bastard! That was a pot-shot and you know it!"

Zarbon let out a bit of a laugh, aiming a pointer finger at the blue-haired woman. "Oi, woman, you have a bit of a tongue, don't you? Let's see it get you out of this one." Bulma's eyes widened, watching as the tip of his finger began to glow with a soft, red hue. Part of her told her to get up and run, but the more rational side calculated her chances of escape…and the results looked grim. She knew better; running away wouldn't help, as he was sure to have good aim and be able to catch her the second time around should he miss.

Instead, she reached behind her, grabbing as much of the wet earth and grass she could get in her fist. In the blink of an eye, she flung it towards the towering alien, hitting him right in the eyes. A triumphant smirk flashed across her face as she stood up, fists on her hips. "Yatta! Take that prick…" she flaunted, slightly proud of her pitiful attempt at retaliation. Wisely, she began to move towards Gohan, wanting to play on the safe side. Luckily for her, Zarbon went for Vegeta instead.

"Well Little Prince, looks like I was right. Having a weak human fight your battles for you? Surely her attack was ten times more effective than yours. Pathetic."

Growling, the Saiya-jin hopped up from the ground, choosing to hover over the earth a few feet away. "No one fights my battles! Do what you came to do fool: fight me! Tonight will be your last night." He felt his fists twitch in anticipation.

The evil soldier zoomed up to hover in front of the Prince, face inches away from his. "Huh, really? Could it be that you fear Lord Frieza's return, by my being here? Are you afraid of being a little slave monkey again?"

Vegeta clenched his fists, fangs glinting in the lightening. "Bastard! You-know…NOTHING!" Energy enveloped them, tossing Zarbon to the now grass-less ground. He stared at the young man he had helped raise. A smirk played at his lips as he aimed both palms towards Vegeta.

"Say 'bye' to the universe, Little Prince."

A dark smirk slid over his tanned features. "Bye." He aimed his left hand towards the downed alien, palm out, thumb crossed over, parallel to his wrist. It was a new move he had been dying test. What better opportunity than the present? "See you in hell!...

"….Big….Bang…..Ataaaaaack!" A blue blast zoomed towards Zarbon, and he prepared to stop it, only to find himself being consumed by it. It was the end. For good. It surrounded him, slowly dissolving him in a way that only a ki blast could.

Vegeta waited, panting at the spent energy. He had put everything he had into that damned ball, and if it didn't work, he'd—he'd….what? His eyes stayed locked on the clearing smoke cloud. The ground, charred, held no remains of the alien beast. With a nod, he slowly floated towards his balcony, being met by Bulma and Gohan. Both only stared at him, eyes wide in wonder.

"What," he muttered, limping back into his room. His bed had never looked so comfortable, so inviting. He powered up slightly, drying himself from the freakish rain that had soaked him.

Bulma walked behind him, and stopped when he did. For a moment, he had the strangest urge to throw her out the still open doors, to let her fend for herself in the rain. All ill-intentions flew out the proverbial window when her soft hands clasped his shoulders. She squeezed and began rubbing them in slow, but hard circles. The moment she had touched him, he had stiffened, but as her ministrations went on, he loosened up. It wasn't often he could scare a massage out of anyone, and dammit, if he was getting a free one, he might was well take it.

Gohan blinked sleepily, not even bothering to second-guess the weird moment between his friend and ex-enemy. The lonely, unattended bed called to him, and he complied, plopping down into the thick comforter and navy blue sheets. The movement caught the owner's attention. "Hey! Get your Kako-germ infected corpse off my bed!" Only a soft snore came as a response.

With a twitch, the agitated Prince took a step forward, but stopped when the Woman giggled. "Just like his dad," she said, walking towards the knocked out demi. Vegeta crossed his arms, anger showing through. "He has a bed, let him go rot in it." Bulma shot a glare his way, putting her hands on her hips.

"Well, with that attitude, I'll just leave him here!"

"I just saved your worthless life!"

Bulma's face fell for an instant before anger overtook her. She fell on the bed, a few inches away from Gohan. "Humph, fine, be snooty then. I guess I'll just have to stay in here too! You can sleep in a guest room if it bothers you so much." Vegeta began to grind his teeth. It was official: his whole day had literally gone to hell. Oh well. And this was his room, and _his_ bed. Blast it all, he wasn't going to get thrown out so easily. The Prince of the Saiya-jins would never back down.

"The hell I will," he growled, settling down next to the woman.

"Gohan, we can move in!" The demi lifted up his head, a sleepy grin claiming his features. He crawled further up, towards the headboard, hoarding a pillow to himself. Bulma made a face, realizing that only one pillow was left, and her houseguest currently claimed half of it. She shrugged, wiggling her way further up as well. Vegeta's eyes opened a bit, clearly showing that he was not pleased with the current situation.

The blue-haired woman grinned, sticking her head right next to his on the suddenly small pillow, her chin on the man's shoulder. He tensed, but did not jerk away. There was no way he would be scared off by the woman, at least, not until her cold, wet robe brushed his skin. He yelped, rolling off the bed and taking her with him. Her shriek startled Gohan, who looked over the edge of the bed though half-lidded eyes.

"What was that for?!" shrieked Bulma.

"Can't you change? You're making the bed wet!"

Bulma looked down at her attire. "I don't have any other sleepwear!" Vegeta rolled his eyes, taking her off his stomach, and stood up.

"Come here," he commanded, holding his hand out towards her. Her blue eyes were calculating his movements, making him want to just rip out his hair. "Would you just hurry your fat ass over here?" That made the female jump, stomping over to him in bold, steady steps. "Don't think I'll do this every time you get too lazy to change." Bulma made a choked sound, but said nothing, watching in wonder and surprise as the Prince wrapped his arms around her.

His strong, big, muscular, world-crushing, alien-killing arms.

Oh boy.

She felt that warmth again, the same one she had felt what seemed like hours ago when he had saved her ass from Zarbon. The memory made her shudder, and she could've sworn his hold tightened slightly. The warmth increased, until she felt waves of heat. It wasn't scalding, nor was it just a warm breath. A wave of wind rushed up, the heat making her feel sleepy. Her hair flew up, drying it and straightening it in an instant. But just as quickly as it had started, Vegeta let go and stepped away, leaving a very dry Bulma still standing. She blinked and looked down again, amazed at how soft and warm her robe and night-clothes still felt. Wow.

Gohan had long since settled back on to his side of the bed, certain that the Prince would make no move to hurt Bulma. Said woman soon crawled back to the comforts of the bed, reserving her half of the single pillow. Vegeta settled in again, back turned towards the two invaders. The bed seemed to depress more as he felt a body scoot closer and closer and closer…. He shied away, getting as close to the edge of the bed as possible without falling off. Finally, he had no room left, and the woman was plastered against his back.

"Would you get off?" he whispered roughly. He turned his head towards her, and could see her bury herself more into his back.

"I'm cold! And you're so warm…" She tightened the covers around her, hoping that she wasn't catching a cold. That would suck, big time. As if suddenly struck, she leaned her face towards the back of his neck. "Thank you," she said softly, finally letting sleep claim her.

Vegeta blinked, tired, trying to ignore the goose bumps that had formed on the back of his neck—the result of the woman's breath brushing against his neck. Good grief, if he wasn't so tired he might think of…

He resisted the urge to slap himself. It was the woman he was thinking about! How…degrading. Naturally, she was a pathetic, weak human. She needed someone to save her ass. Alright. She's cold. Fine. But did that give her the right to be so, bold? So forward?

Eh, not good. The wench was going to feel indebted to him. She would try to 'help' him. No. Not good at all. Tomorrow he would remind her of her place. For now, sleep was the closest thing to heaven.

He would not be held down. He would not be held back. A shadow of a smile flashed on his face as he relived the moment of his victory over the past. Good bye Zarbon.

* * *

**HARDEST CHAPTER EVAAAAR! It was actually easier the first time around. Leave it to me to have to rewrite it and botch it all up. Sorry it took so long, but now you know why, hahaha! I added about 3 more pages to the original chapter, even after I deleted some scenes. The way I had left it before had Bulma staying up in Vegeta's room with Gohan while Veg battled it out with Zarbon. I found it to be dull and totally OOC for Bulma, since she always has her nose in the heat of the battle, even if she can't offer much. Vegeta had also been EXTREMELY OOC, since I had jumped to the whole "bed-scene" right after he chucked her back in the house. It was a weird moment I think. There needed to be more interaction, basically. **

**Anyway, I'm rambling. The next chapter will be posted soon I guess. I haven't gotten many reviews, so I'm feeling the will to finish this diminish again...so if you read it, REVIEW IT!! K, thanks.**


	8. All I Need

**Chapter Eight: All I Need**

* * *

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the un-curtained French balcony doors. The alien Prince allowed one eye to crack open slightly, taking in the fact that he had slept in. His brain wouldn't allow him to completely digest this information, however, as it demanded rest from interrupted sleep. That, and he still hadn't recovered all of his wasted energy in the blast from the night before.

With a stifled yawn, he flipped over, resting on his other side. He held back the urge to let out an array of choice words, coming face to face with the Earth Woman. She continued to sleep peacefully, curling up to his chest, sighing in pure bliss. Dark eyes narrowed, taking in her now robe-less form. The Woman shivered once, making Vegeta roll his eyes at her inability to keep herself warm. Instinctively, he reached out, wrapping one strong, warm arm around her, and pulled her closer. It nearly frightened him, this soft action he took towards the annoying woman, but maybe just this once, it couldn't hurt.

Gohan stirred beside them, making the Prince's own eyes glide over to the demi. The kid yawned and stretched, rubbing lazily at one big, brown eye. He sat up and looked around, eyes landing on the two adults beside him. With a grin that he had obviously inherited from his father, he flashed it towards Vegeta, offering a small wave. The alien only managed a small snort, letting his eyes flutter closed. Unfortunately, Gohan's stomach chose that moment to speak up, making the older man glare.

"Can't you hold off for a few more minutes," he roughly whispered, sending small shoots of blue hair across the pillow. Gohan smiled sheepishly, flopping back against his pillow. The young demi stared at the ceiling, opting to try to count the panels from end to end. His stomach let off another retort before finally calming, though it caused Bulma to turn on her back, sleep still in effect.

She then flopped on to her side, now facing Gohan, whose wide brown eyes blinked at her in surprise. The woman scooted back, plastering her body against Vegeta's chest…again. He grit his teeth, hardly able to take the human's body so close to his superior one. Oh sure, a night in the same bed was somewhat passable. But "cuddling" was one thing he would not do with such a woman.

With a shove, he sent her sliding into Gohan's utterly shocked body, causing both to roll on to the floor. "What the FUDGE?!" she shrieked, blue strands effectively tussled to make her look twice as insane as usual. Vegeta smirked inwardly, glad to finally have the bed to almost normal standards. "Why'd you do that??" the blue-haired woman whined, stomping her foot down. Gohan merely peeked over the edge of the bed, wild bangs shooting every which way.

"Might I remind you that this is _my_ bed, wench. You have dirtied it long enough. Get to the kitchen and make breakfast."

Bulma's eyes widened instantly. What the hell had happened to him? He had been so nice the night before, well, as nice as Vegeta could ever get. But still. Now he was the same old asshole he had always been. Strange…She shook her wayward bangs from her face, racking the rest back with slender fingers. "Fine, _Your Majesty_," she growled, stalking out of the room.

Vegeta felt his face darken, but not at the snide comment. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far, but it mattered not now. She was off obeying his commands for once, and he had his bed back, Onna-free and Kako-Brat-free. The day was turning out to be alright after all.

* * *

A few annoying sniffles rang back at her in the semi-empty kitchen. She wasn't crying, oh heavens no. But she felt just awful. Her body ached (namely her rear), her nose was deliberating whether or not to drain her entire sinus cavity or dry it up, and her throat tickled like a bitch. With a bit of effort, she blew her nose, tossing the Kleenex towards the can and missed. "Whatever," she grumbled, flipping the twentieth pancake. The down side to not having her parents at home was not having the new key code for the cooking bots. The damned things wouldn't respond to any of the old codes she imputed.

She paused for a moment to pull the long locks of blue into a low ponytail, though renegade bangs escaped their hold. What bothered her most was Vegeta's strange change in attitude. Granted, he was as much of an ass as ever, but still. For a moment she had felt as if they had reached a new level of understanding in their "friendship". It wasn't much of a relationship, but she was rather fond of nursing the small steps towards civility.

Worse still, she couldn't figure out how she went from being against his warm form to kissing the floor in seconds. It had not been her intention to cuddle, but foggy minds find funny things to do. Her eyes widened. She couldn't even remember what had happened after they had all finally settled in to bed. Her mind flipped wild images into her brain, though she shot them all down. Vegeta may be a brute, and a sick one at that—he was a murderer afterall—but she highly doubted he would try anything with Gohan in the same room. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

"Wow, Bulma…that smells good!" chimed the kid, startling her into flipping the last pancake a little too high. Both watched as it flipped and somersaulted through the air, finally landing on a most unsuspecting figure.

Vegeta said nothing as the semi-cooked breakfast food slid down his forehead, only to stay perched on his nose. The goo stuck to his eyelids, and he began to wonder why he had even crawled out of bed at all. He clenched and unclenched his fists, hoping that something would come his way so he could pound the pulp out of it.

Bulma bit the inside of her cheeks to keep in the torrents of laughter that were soon to escape. She was surprised and a little impressed that he had not blown the whole kitchen to smithereens. Yet self-preservation kicked in, keeping her from patting him on the back and cooing at him like a mother would to a child. Instead she picked up a dish rag, shuffling over to him cautiously. He crosses his arms, obviously sensing that she was coming near him. "Touch me, and I'll kill you," he let out roughly, body going rigid as she came closer.

"Tch, don't think I want to do this. But it is my fault so I might as well clean up my mess." She stopped directly in front of him, peeling off the homicidal pancake and tossing it into the can. The dish rag was moist enough for her to get most of the mix off, though she ended up dragging him over to the sink to rinse off the cloth. With a nod, she rung out the excess water and used her free hand to cup his cheek. The touch caused him to flinch, and she could feel the slightest blush tickle her cheeks. She could see him bite his bottom lip, only slightly though. Her brain snapped back at the action, making her finish her clean up. "There, all better," she declared, dumping the rag in the sink and putting a great amount of distance between her houseguest and herself.

Said houseguest stood absolutely still near the sink. Thanks to his peripheral vision, he could see the woman dart back and forth between cabinets, the pantry, and the fridge, setting out the rest of their breakfast. Just what had occurred, he had no idea. That was enough to send him into a foul mood, but he was too confused to really head in that direction. He leaned his back against the sink, watching the blue-haired onna go back and forth, back and forth. Frankly, he wanted to end her miserable life, so as to move on with his own and kill the confusion that he was wasting good brain cells on. With a shake of his head he took his place at the table, waiting for Kako-brat and Baka Onna to finish saying "grace" over their meals.

* * *

"And so, frankly Miss Briefs, I don't think these prints are going to work."

"Dammit," Bulma sighed, tucking the phone between her shoulder and cheek. "I can't believe dad screwed this one up so bad. He must've pulled an all-nighter or something."

The man on the other line didn't sound sympathetic. "Yes, well, he did have a deadline."

"And just what is that supposed to mean?" She nearly snapped her pencil in half as she heard him shuffle around the blueprints to their latest air-car model.

"Nothing personal ma'am. I just think he had too much on his hands. He should've enlisted more help, like yourse—"

Her desk chair slammed into the wall as she hopped to her feet. The man must've sensed his mistake for he tried to crank out apology after apology. "Save it!" the woman shrieked, "I'll have you know that my father and I split all the projects down the middle. He probably didn't want me to have this to worry about too. So hold your blasted horses, and I'll have these prints to you in a week!" She slammed the phone down, feeling tears prick the back of her eyes.

How her father handled his, she had no clue. Even worse, the company would be her own in a few years time. Such disheartening news caused her to fall back in to her chair, throwing her pencil back down on her desk.

"Your temper could rival my own, you know."

Blue eyes shot up in wonder, but her recognition of the man took over. "Oh, it's you. Eavesdropping will make your ears get as long as a hound's."

Vegeta blinked. It had to be some stupid Earth-saying. He leaned against the doorframe, peeling off his gloves. Bulma raised a delicate eyebrow as she took in his form. He had most likely come from his morning training session, if the sweat and slight smell radiating from him were any indication. Then again, if he was training, or at least, doing something dealing with training, why on earth would he be in the labs? "What's got you out of your cave today?" He scowled at her, marching up to the desk in heavy steps. White gloves were deposited on her desk, neatly, though it rattled her copy of the prints a bit. They shared a heated glare before he smirked it off.

"I tried hitting 450 G's again today."

Silence.

"Ok, and?"

"Your stupid machine, which you supposedly fixed, blew out again."

"What? Aw, you've got to be kidding me!" She snatched her toolkit, jogging out of the labs and into the crisp air. Thankfully her coveralls provided the perfect protection against the elements. Heaven knew what would've happened had she been in shorts and a tank top.

The young woman stood before the tall, gleaming dome of the gravity room. Each time she had ventured to this part of the compound, she found herself hating the room more and more. With a grunt, she pulled the cover off the generator, giving it a once-over before slamming the button to open the door to the inner chamber. Vegeta followed, his face a mix of amusement and irritation. She shook it off, opening the panel to the console for what seemed like the thousandth time this week.

Minutes later she found the problem. Two wires had burned through, one crossing over other wires near it. It was a slightly easy fix, though she felt strangely odd about it. Again she shook it off, cutting off the destroyed ends of the two wires and soldering them back into their original positions. "Ha," she began, dusting her pants off, "let's hope that did the trick. Computer, gravity simulation, two times Earth's normal gravity."

The computer responded, firing up to raise the gravity level. "Child's play," Vegeta countered, rolling his eyes at her obvious weakness.

"Well I'm sorry! Remember, I'm just a puny human who can't stand all that pressure. It would squash me like a bug," she demonstrated, clapping her hands together once for the effect. She nearly finished with a giggle, when a ringing sound went off, and the computer announced that something was malfunctioning.

"**Please abort gravity simulation.**"

Bulma blinked, turning towards the console again. "Computer! Abort gravity simulation immediately!" Her stomach did a few flips as it reported a negative in its efforts to carry out the command. Hair flung into her face as she whirled around to face a buzzing sound. She managed to just in time, as the arrogant Saiya-jin before her launched the charged blast at the door. "No DON'T!" she shrieked, latching on to his arm. It did no good.

Vegeta, unprepared for her invasion upon his person, felt the ball of ki separate from his being and whiz towards the only door to the GR. He merely glared after it, hoping to end whatever stupidity decided to descend upon him at this point in time. His companion had other plans as she spun him around, her nose only centimeters from his own. "Now would be a great time to go Super!" He couldn't help the look of confusion that took hold of his features. Bulma only sighed before offering a final glance at the now smoking console. "We're going to die! Correction, I am going to die while you make it through this alive thanks to your flippin' alien strength!" Her grip on his exercise shirt tightened with each word. For a moment, he had been almost tempted to put her out of her misery.

"What are you babbling about? That blast wasn't enough to hurt the damned door."

"I'm not talking about the door you incompetent moron!" She ignored his growl. "Something told me not to repair those wires and now I know why." With a few stomps, she stood before the smoking heap of metal, ripping away the cover with unknown strength. "Look," she commanded, and he did so, mainly to get her to shut up. "This white wire and the blue wire both burned out only a few centimeters from where it's connected to the circuitry. The blue crossed the red and yellow because it fell that way. It didn't even cause the GR to malfunction. This little wire," she started, pointing at the white one, "is what made the GR burp out on you—"

"Would you get to the point already? I've been patient enough with your nonsense!"

Bulma huffed, stomping her heel down onto his toe. He flinched, and she could've sworn his eyes watered, but nothing came of it. "The point is: the GR was made with a safety device, so that if something SO random, like this, occurred, it would lock it off from the compound and implode!"

Vegeta made a face. "Implode?"

"YES! You know, when something folds in on itself and self-destructs!"

* * *

**Short and sweet, as compared to the previous one. Nope, no B-V action in bed. Sorry. But it's waaaaaay to early, dontcha think? Anywho, I've been watching DBZ in Japanese (with subs) so I can get a bit more of a perspective on what Toriyama-sama wanted to portray in the future timeline. It kinda effects what I had planned for the end of this fic (which is a long ways off, btw haha). But yeah, there ya have it. Review please! And thanks to those that have been :D I appreciate it A LOT!**

**Ja Ne!**


	9. Come Please

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Chapter Nine: Come, Please

* * *

Of all the….Vegeta could hardly believe his ears. Why on Earth would anyone build a machine that self-destructs because of a malfunction?! He opened his mouth to let her know just how stupid it all sounded, but snapped it shut as a tremor took hold of the large dome. "Lemme guess," he said coolly, barely able to keep his balance. "This is the part where you beg and plead for me to rescue your ass, again, because you messed up…again."

The heiress turned her nose up, giving him her back as she kept one hand against the core of the GR. "Hardly. This is where I stand off to the side and ask you not to go ape on me and blow this place up."

The Prince squashed down the urge to do so, just to spite her. He would've gladly done so, but the way she said it made him wonder just what the consequences _would_ be if he blasted the entire training facility to the next dimension. His muscles twitched as another tremor rocked the capsule, this time stronger than the last. Without a doubt, he did not want to waste a whole afternoon waiting for the pathetic thing to implode. Stepping back from the door, he charged up another blast.

"What are you doing?" The woman asked, now directly behind him.

"I've wasted enough time here. I am leaving."

Her blue eyes rounded. "You can't! You'll make this thing blow that much faster, and even stronger."

"Hn," was all he offered as he released an even bigger blast at the metal door.

"**Warning. Security system breeched."**

"What the—"

"I tried to warn you," she sighed, slumping down to the floor. Her long hair was able to hide the frightened tears that streaked her cheeks. What a way to go. Young, unmarried, possibly completely single, and totally rich. It was only a matter of time before the GR's main security systems took over and quickened the pace of its own destruction. Now she wished that she had taken her father's advice and written an override code. Then again, who could've expected such a thing to occur?

At that moment she felt entirely helpless—a feeling which was so foreign to her it sickened her stomach. She had always been so independent, and usually only had to rely on Goku or Yamcha's brute strength to bail her out of sticky situations. Now not even the strongest fighter (well, second strongest) could save them this time. "I'm going to die," she whispered, the truth sinking in deeper. Her blue eyes took in the digits on her wrist watch. It was only a matter of minutes now.

Vegeta continued to glare out the window as the GR began to constantly rock with the energy within it. His annoyance with the situation was reaching new heights, and he wasn't about to wait one more minute for the danged thing to blow. He'd help it go faster. Of course, he'd probably have to help the woman out too. Heaven forbid he'd have to tough it out the rest of the week if she should perish in the blast. "If I were you, I would stand very close to me." The words sounded so idiotic to him, he nearly punched himself for uttering them.

Obviously she thought so too, for she only stared back at him with bright, blue eyes. "What?" She had her palms flat against the floor, keeping her from rolling around the chaotic capsule.

"I'm going to help this thing kill itself faster. The closer you are to me, the more of a chance you have of surviving."

Bulma failed to see the logic behind his reasoning, but it was definitely better than sitting around and waiting for death to claim her. She gave a nod as she shakily stood back on her feet. The capsule gave another violent lurch, nearly sending her flying back, until a strong pair of arms crushed her against an equally steel-like chest. She slowly gazed up, feeling her breath catch in her throat as he stared back into her eyes. Vaguely, she was reminded of those sappy romance-tragedy movies and books, where the man claims his undying love for the woman right before they potentially face their deaths. The scientist wondered if such a freakish incident as this could make the stoic Prince admit that he did, in fact, at least like her.

"Just shut up and hold on," he said softly. Softly! Bulma blinked, but did as she was told, burying her face into his chest and holding on for dear life. She silently whispered out a prayer, hoping that she could just make it out of this alive and laugh about it tomorrow.

The Saiya-jin looked down at the tiny Earth-woman that had, frighteningly enough, left her life in his hands. This would be no easy job, as the usually weak GR took even a strong blast head on. He clenched his fists, pushing his energy up and up, higher and higher, hoping that at least the dome would cave in to his own powers. With a yell, he kept powering up, though he could feel himself reaching the max too quickly. It didn't matter much now, for he gave a final shout, erupting with enough energy to fill the entire dome.

* * *

His body let forth such a twitch as to bring him back from the unconscious world. With a small groan he opened his eyes, being met back with the shocking cold air from the starry sky. He sat up and took in the destruction he had helped caused. The smallest of smirks flashed across his face as he glanced around the yard. Most of the scraps remained in the same pile that was once the GR. Had he been one to show much emotion over things, he would've performed some sort of victory dance, but all stopped short as he realized that the woman wasn't visible at all.

Vegeta now hovered over the scrap heap, sharp vision scanning over the backyard. He let out a curse when only metal met his eye in the dimly lit night. As much as he hated to admit it, he was hoping that the woman had survived…his stomach craved food and only she could operate the cooking machinery in the kitchen. "Why can't you have a ki higher than a flea, idiot?" He landed near the edge of where he had awoken moments before. "Woman?" No answer was returned. Nearly tempted to blast away sheet after sheet of metal, he knelt down and shoved piece after piece to a clearer area of the yard. "Answer me," he commanded, still moving away debris.

One final sheet gave way, and he nearly recoiled at the sight. The human was face down, only feet from where he had been sprawled out. Her arms were still stretched out ahead of her, as if she still had a grip on his neck. There were small scratches and bruises over the visible skin. He gulped down a swallow that wouldn't go, crawling over to where she lay, just as motionless as ever. "Bulma?" She made no response, only continued to lay there in such a sad state. The Prince checked over her neck and spine, making sure that neither was damaged. With summoned gentleness, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her onto her back. Her head rocked side to side easily, making him wince at the action. "Hey," he started, slapping as softly as possible at her cheek. "Come on, wake up!"

A cold hand limply grasped at his arm, slapping it away. "Stop hitting me you ass," she mumbled, opening her eyes.

"Huh, you had me going for a second. I thought I had been lucky enough to be rid of you forever."

No answer. His dark eyes widened slightly. Normally he would've expected some sort of retort, or even physical attempts at abuse by the loud woman, but she continued to stare blankly at the night sky.

"Is that you, Vegeta?" her voice nearly sounded panicky.

"Who'd you expect? The Good Humor man?" Vegeta snapped back, rolling his eyes at her dramatic tendencies.

"Vegeta?" she questioned, clawing at the dirt. He stared at her, realization dawning on him. "Bulma, can you hear me?" Blue eyes continued to stare at the sky, blinking rapidly. They were watering, and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. "Bulma." He tried again, louder this time. Still, she didn't respond. A few grumbles escaped him as he readied to clap his hands near her ear, but before his palms had even slapped together, she winced as the air fanned her cheek. He attempted again, this time clapping as loud as possibly could, and could even hear the echo bounce back from the surrounding neighborhood. Nothing, not even a start at the sound.

Another curse escaped his lips. He tried to get her to look at him, but each time her eyes seemed to miss him. It was almost as if she couldn't lock on to him. Great, just great. "You're just getting me into deeper and deeper shit, aren't you?" He tried to grasp her shoulder to get her to stand up, but she shied away, backing up as far as she could. For a moment, he thought her to be more of a scared animal than a human.

"Please, who's there?"

Vegeta sighed. Just his luck to get stuck with a totally weakened human. He walked slowly towards her, trying to figure out just how he could make her realize that she had been fortunate enough to still be stuck with him. Stopping directly in front of her, he watched as she tensed. "I know somebody is here with me. If you aren't Vegeta, I'm probably doomed. Unless you're a paramedic. But then you'd be taking an awfully long time of tending to me!" Her voice was tinged with the slightest tremble, and her eyes were still watering. The flamed-hair man was beginning to worry that he would never be able to get her inside of the house.

"Dammit, it's me! And I have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to let you know. If only you could sense ki or read my mind you infernal woman…" Then again, if he could read hers, or rather, talk to her through a certain mind connection—ah ha!

Bulma could only hear the constant high-pitched ring in her ears. If Vegeta's yelling hadn't damaged them, she would have to assume that the explosion itself had done it. Then again, it also hadn't helped that she had stared right into the heat of the blast. Her eyes smarted something awful, but she wasn't about to let whoever was in front of her see that. She hoped—no, prayed—that it was Vegeta in front of her. At the moment she had no way of knowing, other than his rude awakening. Even the scent of the person smelled somewhat like the Prince, but the person also smelled like they had walked near smoke. Of all times to have two senses out of commission.

'Woman…'

She nearly jumped up. The voice sort of echoed, so she gathered her ears still weren't functional. But if she couldn't hear, then how—?

'Blast it, answer me fool!'

"Gah, alright alright! What? And how is it that I can hear you?"

She nearly laughed when she could practically see in her mind's eye that he had rolled his own. 'Well, aside from the fact that I'm staring at your incapacitated body, I have the unfortunate task of invading your mind. In case you haven't noticed, you can't see, nor can you hear.' Bulma flinched, staring blankly ahead.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious. I'd like to respond in my mind so I don't feel like a complete fool, but I never studied Mind Invasion 101."

'Today is your lucky day!' he chided, eerily sounding like a father speaking to his daughter. 'I happen to be relaying what I'm saying aloud to your pathetic mind. That way, neither of us look as idiotic as this situation seems.'

If it was possible to interpret her look as a glare, he would've compared it to his best evil glares. But, without her being able to actually deliver the darkened stare into his own dark pools, the look dulled to nothing more than mere annoyance. "If it's not too much for you then, Your Majesty, would you please get me inside? I could use a drink, smoke, and some pills."

Vegeta wrinkled his nose, grand anticipation over the semi-drug sticks Bulma and her father seemed to favor so much. 'I'll get you to the Med Bay, but I absolutely refuse to stand around while you smoke those disgusting tobacco products.'

"Alright," she gave in, slumping more and more, "just get me in please. I really need those pain killers." The Prince complied, begrudgingly, picking her up from her underarms and setting her back on solid ground.

'Think you can walk,' he sneered, already feeling irritated with the week's turn of events.

"I'm sure I'll manage." They started off towards the kitchen door, her arm securely linked in his. "What happened to Gohan?"

The man blinked, his mind never having wondered about the brat in the first place. 'We left him in the house. Knowing him he's eaten us out of house and home.' Bulma frowned. Strange, wouldn't the kid have felt the shakes from the GR, or heard the blast, or even seen the burst of light? 'You're strangely calm for the mess you're in,' interrupted her guide as he reminded her of the step into the kitchen.

"You'd be surprised," she replied, absently wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "I'm actually subconsciously freaking out while wondering where Gohan was in the midst of all this." Her eyes widened as she even heard him snort. He wasn't lying when he said he was relaying everything he said aloud to her mind.

'And here you are, supposed to be babysitting him. I believe he said something about sparring with the Namek. Heaven knows they're both wasting their time.'

"Oh sure, sure. I suppose you're going to be the one to surpass us all and show Kakarot who the better of the two is."

They abruptly stopped before the Med Bay, Vegeta's eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 'You should know that I am already the better one, Bulma. As soon as the GR is back in order, I will continue my training, and you can count down the days till total destruction.'

Bulma jerked her arm out of his, face flushing in anger. "I've had enough destruction in these past two years to last me a lifetime. Besides, the GR will be totally out of commission for quite sometime."

'What do you mean?' he growled, grabbing on to her arm and twisting her towards him.

"Mom called earlier today. They wanted a vacation, so they won't be home for a few weeks." She wished like nothing else that she had been able to see the look of horror on his face. But, as fate would have it, she was sightless. Oh well, she could always conjure up an insanely uncharacteristic expression for the alien Prince.

Vegeta wanted to howl, but decided against it. He should've known that such things would always happen because life was so cruel. 'Tch, whatever,' he echoed back, retaking her arm and leading her towards the nearest bed. Various medical instruments stared back at him, and he, quite shamefully, had no idea what to do with them. Sure, he could handle some band-aids and anti-septic, but actual metal objects were freakishly annoying.

"You have no idea what to do, do you?"

'Shut up,' he growled, picking up a mini-flashlight and shinning it in the earth woman's eyes. The pupils didn't even budge from their enlarged state. 'Huh, so far it looks as though you won't be seeing anytime soon.' He nearly bashed his head into the wall. The last thing he needed was having the injured female going into hysterics. But she only continued to sit there, blinking back tears.

Vegeta tossed the flashlight back onto the tray, glaring at the medical books that taunted him from the shelves. 'You could help you know.' Bulma blinked in surprise, though she suppressed the urge to grin at him.

"There's a piece of equipment on the tray that looks pretty much like a flashlight, except it has a funnel and magnifier on the rounder head of it. That's for the ears. I take it that you've already figured out how to get my eyes to respond." The Prince nodded and reached for the instrument that resembled the one she described. He placed the pointier end in her ear and pressed the button for the light. All looked red and weird, and he must've made a noise, for the woman pulled his hand back slightly. "Try looking from this spot. What do you see?"

'Looks like tears and blood,' he responded, taking a moment longer. Science was amazing, he'd give her that much.

"Hmm, I must've ruptured my ear drums. No worries, those will mend easily with those drops in the cabinet. But, my eyes…" she blinked heavily, almost as if she were willing that simple action to heal her wounded orbs. Internally she was panicking. Never before had she received such a wound as to keep her from functioning normally. "Just…just hand me the ear drops," came her murmured request, her hands rubbing gingerly at her eyes.

Vegeta offered her a small, barely sympathetic look before he waltzed over to the cabinet. Bottles were arranged in an almost OCD fashion. 'Err…which one?'

Even with her sight significantly impaired, she managed to roll her eyes as she looked in his direction. "It clearly says 'Ears'."

In turn, he glared, skimming all three shelves for any signs of the drops. He happened upon an empty space on the second shelf, causing him to guess that they had already been used. 'Not here,' he said, letting his eyes roam again.

Bulma hopped off the examination table, using her photographic memory to take the exact amount of steps up to the cabinet. The Prince's eyes widened slightly as her enquiring fingers landed exactly on the edge of the second shelf. "First cabinet, second shelf, third place," she recited softly, fingers brushing lightly against the first two bottles, before landing on the empty space. Her small hands balled into fists as she began to shake with unknown rage. "DAMN!" she shrieked, flailing her arms around wildly, knocking away bottles and glass panes.

For a moment he stood gawking, amazed at the sheer power that radiated from the little woman's body as she let her fear get the better of her. He shook out of his daze though, just in time to catch her from knocking over sharp instruments. Pinning her arms down to her sides, he held her at bay, hoping that her human form—however disgustingly pathetic it was—would resurface and bring her back to sanity.

His wish was granted as the broken scientist let out a shuddering breath before collapsing against him, bawling like a newborn brat. Tempting as it was to shove her away, he withheld his intent, instead, picking her up and cradling her like the child she was. The Saiya-jin would never be able to tell just why he had done such a silly, weak action, but it had seemed like the thing to do at the moment. There was a smidgen of time where he could actually say that he had been in the same boat as she, once upon a time. No one had been able to fish him out of the lonely, dark abyss that he had sunk deeper and deeper in to. Although her all-consuming darkness was literal, and his figurative, the underlying essential necessity was still the same: contact.

He needed her just as much as she needed him in that moment.

Vegeta would never be able to explain how this conclusion came about, merely because of a temper tantrum, but such things were better left alone. With this conclusion, he silently carried her out of the med-bay, his grip tightening a fraction with his first step.

* * *

**This chapter seems slightly off to me, but I did write it about 2 years ago, so whatever lol. I think it's because Vegeta feels a bit too soft. Oh well. Only about 2-3 prewritten chapters left. I guess I better get crackin!**

**REVIEW!**


	10. Callin'

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Chapter Ten: Callin'

* * *

The soft, Earthling bed had never looked so comfortable before, he had to admit. His body longed to be flung against it, to wrap himself up in the dark sheets and comforter, to shut out the world. But he knew that he would not be able to fully enjoy his rest if he threw his filthy body on to the empty bed. Instead, he left a trail of clothes in his path to the bathroom, stripping each article until he stood in his boxers before the tub. He twisted the handles for the faucet, hoping to get the water to a tolerable heat. His mind wandered as he kept his hand under the steady flow of water, waiting for it to warm up.

Thankfully, Bulma had fallen asleep with the aid of her painkillers, and was now safely tucked away in her own bed, away from the horrors of an unknown future. She had sobbed all the way till the end of the trek in her room, before getting a hold of herself as he placed her on the bed. Somehow, she had managed to find her night clothes, and shrugged them on as he turned his back on her, waiting with summoned patience. And, mercifully, the pain relievers kicked in within minutes. Her panicked mind was allowed artificial peace…at least until the morning.

Vegeta stepped into the shower, satisfied with the temperature of the water. He squeezed a generous sized amount of shampoo into his palm, scrubbing at his scalp and hair with enough force to scrape away all the grime from the blast. Since coming upon the woman's body in the destroyed Gravity Room, he had felt grimy, filthy, disgusting. Unsure as to why he had felt that way, he simply pushed it to the back of his mind, realizing that it was most likely the literal feeling of those words. But he knew better. Guilt had tried to drag him in to the dark abyss as he guided her to the Med Bay and again as he carried her to her room. It wasn't his fault that she was weak, no indeed! Had she acquired half a brain from her conception, she would have installed security features in the GR to prevent the freakish accident. Stupid human.

Still, despite his justification, he couldn't shake the helplessness of the situation. "Damn," he grumbled, rinsing out the foam and reaching for the bar of soap that rested on the soap dish. He shouldn't be thinking about who was responsible for the damage. Instead, he directed his thoughts at the destruction of his precious GR. A groan escaped his lips as he realized that his training would be delayed until the elder Briefs returned from…wherever they were at. "Damn!" he nearly shrieked, whispering the end to keep from disturbing the banshee that lay only a door away. Of all the misfortunes to befall him at this point in life…

He let out a sigh, rinsing off his body. There was nothing he could do now. Training without the aid of the gravity would be good, but nowhere near as beneficial as the artificial simulator. Damn it all.

A twist of the handles shut off the water, ending his shower rather quickly. He griped the towel, hopping out of the tub while trying to dry off. It was no easy task, especially when all the recent events finally caught up with his tired body. Another sigh and he pulled on a fresh set of boxers, satisfied with his newfound cleanliness. The Prince was about to work on drying his long, dark hair when he heard the woman call for him. "For Kami's sake!" He stomped down the hall, not caring that his soaked hair was flinging water on the walls or floor, or that instead of its usual flame-shape, it hung past his shoulders, half-way down his back.

He slammed the door open, expecting her to cry out or shout obscenities at him for doing such a thing but she made no move, no sound, other than calling out to him again. Half tempted to bash his head through a wall, he marched straight up to her bed, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake.

'WHAT?'

Bulma sniffled a bit, running the sleeve of her robe across her nose a few times. "You left me," she whined, partially wobbly from her drug-induced state.

Vegeta let out a small, strangled huff. Had he promised her that he would stay? He recalled no such thing. No self-respecting, proud Saiya-jin Prince would ever promise to anyway! 'So?' he answered, releasing her from his grip.

"I thought…well, that maybe, you know….you would…jus—"

'You can just stop thinking,' came the snipped reply. 'If you had any foolish notions of me staying, you're an idiot. You've done quite enough for me today. My gravity room is ruined, I have no access to cooked food, my bed still has your germs in it, your freakin' parents are nowhere to be found…need I go on? Why would I possibly want to stay in your presence a moment longer?'

In the middle of his light monologue, he had sat down, and now that he was waiting for a reply from the wounded onna, he could finally take in his surroundings. It wasn't often that he had ever really graced her room with his presence. The whole area was usually a complete war-zone, but tonight it looked neater than usual. His eyes trailed back to her form, her sightless eyes seeing right past him.

She gave no reply, other than a few blinks and sniffles. A moment of insanity gripped her instead, causing her to fling her body against him. The miffed alien could offer no words or actions to express his shock. His arms only gripped the mattress, his body went rigid. The woman just squeezed harder, amazed that he smelled so good, felt so soft. It was a grand difference to his usually cold, hard demeanor.

Bulma buried her face in his chest, hoping to shut out the suffocating darkness. There wasn't an explanation as to why she turned to him for comfort. She only supposed it was because she hated being alone, always had. Hesitantly, she ran her palm up and down his back, trying to ease the tense muscles that had stiffened as a result of her touch. Suppressing a grin, she could feel his heart rate pick up before it settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Her hand kept hitting drops of water, finally plowing through a massive wet mane. She could feel her eyebrows arch up in surprise. His hair was practically as long as hers! A small smile eased up on her pale face…the first one for a very long night.

The alien Prince felt a strange sense of comfort in the tiny ministrations the woman executed. For a moment, he wondered who was taking care of whom. But he snapped out of his thoughts, grasping her arms once again and pushing her towards the comfort of her bed. 'Sleep,' he ordered when he felt she would protest. The sheets billowed around her before settling down on her body as he tucked her in. In reality, it was such a silly, unnatural thing for him to do, but the night had been totally out of the ordinary.

And none of it would happen again anyway.

He started to turn away, taking the towel from around his shoulders to finally get to his dripping hair.

"Vegeta…" Bulma called, her face pointed in his general direction, though her eyes still didn't meet his own. He had paused, feeling a bit of hope well up that maybe, just maybe, her crystalline eyes would connect with his ebony ones. He was sorely disappointed when they landed on his knees instead. "Don't leave. Please? Just for tonight?"

With the towel merely resting on his head, he regarded her from a safe distance. It would be easier for him if he just stayed in her room. He could keep an eye on her, not that he wanted to, but the situation did warrant that. And he would be able to tell her to shut up more effectively…

His stomach interrupted, reminding him that dinner had been missed.

'I need food first.'

Bulma blinked as the breeze from the door closing kissed her face.

* * *

Cold meats, cheeses, condiments, breads, greens, and liquids littered the table in the kitchen's nook. Vegeta would be willing to admit that he was no five-star cook. Thankfully, he was able to fend for himself with foods that didn't need to be heated with any earthling contraption. A sandwich that was so many feet high off of the table stood before him, placing a gleam in his eye that he hadn't held since he had battled all those weaklings on Namek. A feral grin replaced the scowl that he had retained while fixing his meal. At last, something was going right today!

Picking up what equated to three sandwiches from the top, he readied himself for his feast, eager to taste the fruits of his efforts. But before he could bite down on the breaded goodness, a tingle went up and down his spine. His brow furrowed as he spun around in his seat, ready to drop his portion and defend himself against any villain. He waited…and waited…

Until the door swung open anyway. A chilled looking Gohan quickly came in, shutting the door behind him as he jogged in place. "What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, still unsure of Earthling traditions and nonsensical things like that. Gohan blushed and rubbed the back of his head, reminding the Prince of the third-class clown that lived nearly a thousand miles away.

"Tryin' to keep warm! It sure is cold outside."

The older man chose not to grace the statement with any reply, as his sandwich was still uneaten. He turned in his seat, easily munching away at the helpless goodies before him. The half-breed's stomach chose that moment to speak up, churning out a chorus of growls for being ignored. "Let me guess…the Namek didn't bother to feed you." He didn't need to turn around to see the kid's response. Vegeta should've known. The stoic, green giant would pull off a stunt like that…getting the brat hungry and not bothering to feed him before sending him back. "Fiiiiiine," he mumbled, tossing about a third of the stack on another plate and sliding it away from his place at the table. Gohan didn't need an invitation; he plopped down two chairs away, gobbling down the sandwiches as though his life depended on it.

Minutes later, only empty bottles and cleaned off plates remained on the table. The younger of the two let out a contented burp, resting back in his chair as he sleepily blinked up at the ceiling. "What happened to the GR?" He lazily rolled his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the clock; it read 10:57 PM.

Vegeta winced at the reminder. Absently he rubbed at his shoulder, feeling it begin to bruise from the mentioned disaster. "It…blew," he hesitated, uncertain if telling the demi Saiya-jin about Bulma's condition would be wise.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Is Bulma gonna fix it?" Gohan sat up fully as he realized that his companion was more interested in the crumpled napkin that lay next to his plate. "Vegeta-san?"

He had wanted to avoid all questions really. His mind was not in any stable condition to deal with the brat or his prodding questions. Worse still, every time his mind was brought back to the subject of the woman, he could feel such ridiculous emotions like guilt swirl around and around. It wasn't his fault she got injured! She brought it on herself!

The Prince let out a breath that had built up during his mental rant. "No," was all he could get out through gritted teeth at first. "She can't. Not now."

Gohan's eyes widened. "Is…is she ok?"

A curt nod was received in reply. "She'll be fine. For some reason she's lost her sight and her hearing in the blast. I think her ears will heal fast enough. Her eyes may take longer." He stood up abruptly, deciding to take his chances and hope that the cleaning bots would take care of the mess. "I'll be in her room tonight. I'm sure you're competent enough to get yourself to bed." The demi only nodded as the warrior sulked away, feet padding across the carpet heard until he made his way up the stairs.

The boy stood up, following the path up the stairs and to his room, where he immediately went to the shower. He knew Bulma would be ok. Her ki felt strong, though it had an anxious, nervous aura about it. And if the Prince had known that much about her condition, then he probably had taken care of whatever had ailed her in the first place. With his mind now at ease, the demi could shower in peace.

* * *

The doorway seemed to loom high above him as he simply stood before it. Why it was so hard to walk through it and plop down in a chair by her bed was beyond understanding in his mind. He was pretty sure it had to deal with uncertainties. This was uncharted territory for him. Never before had he stayed with someone because they had asked, especially when they were ill and in bed. He almost felt embarrassed by his child-like behavior.

Being the prince he was though, he shrugged it off, twisting the handle on the door and swinging it open gently. The woman was sitting up, fighting sleep as she fiddled with the corners of her blanket. And she called _him_ stubborn.

'I thought I told you to sleep.'

Obviously she was surprised. Her sleepy eyes blinked back to their alertness and another smile was visible from where he stood. Did it really mean so much to her?

"You came back."

Vegeta shrugged again, well aware that she couldn't see him. He could barely admit to himself that deep in the recesses of his mind, he had promised that he would come back, if only to keep her quite for the rest of the night. It wasn't as though he had to get up for any particular reason anyway. 'Gimme a pillow,' was all he demanded as he sat down on a cushiony lazy-boy chair.

Bulma shook her head, patting the excess bed beside her. "It's not like you haven't shared a bed with me before."

'Absolutely not!'

"Aww, come on! The bed is ten times more comfortable than the recliner."

Perhaps the woman did have a point. Various spots on his body began to ache, and he was sure it was all due to the flippin' explosion that had turned his day from bad to worse. Growling under his breath, he pulled the covers back just enough for him to slide in, huddling as close as he could to the edge without falling off. Again the woman instantly glued herself to his back, making him most uncomfortable with the situation at hand. 'Must you be so clingy?!'

He received a slap on the arm. "It's human nature! I can't help the fact that I feel the need to 'cling' to you! I've just been through more hell than I've ever been through, and now I'd like to get some sleep!!" Vegeta blinked in surprise at her slight mood swing, but said nothing more. He felt her settle against him, her breathing evening out to a totally rested rhythm.

"About time," he muttered, feeling his own eye lids betray him as sleep claimed his body.

* * *

The shrill ring of a tune he couldn't decipher brought him back from the land of sleep. He opened one eye half way, sure that his biological clock was effecting him and that he would be able to turn over and return to much needed sleep. His other eye opened half way to focus on the direction of the noise.

No such luck.

The woman's cell phone slid around her nightstand, vibrating and playing some tune that bordered on romance and depression. His ungloved hand reached for it, clasping it in a large palm as he brought it closer for inspection. The tune still rang out, muffled though it was, and still it vibrated in his hand. He turned the cell over in his hand, squinting at the screen to read the caller ID.

"Yamcha." It read, stopping long enough with its noise to signify that it had gone to the answering service.

Vegeta scowled. Why the weakling Scarface had only now bothered to call the woman was beyond him. Still, he knew that if someone didn't answer his noisy calls, the baka was just as likely to show up and snoop around. The last thing they needed was to have him come and start pointing fingers for uncontrolled incidents.

The phone went off again, playing the same annoying tune. The Prince flipped it open, glad for once that the woman couldn't hear. "What?" He winced at the sound of his voice. Sleep must've claimed him entirely that night because he still sounded like he was dead to the world.

"Vegeta? What are you doing with Bulma's phone?" The weakling sounded clearly confused. Vegeta smirked in satisfaction though his mind churned through little white lies to cover up his means for answering Bulma's personal number.

"She's sleeping and it was annoying me." Oh so lame. He slapped his forehead, instantly regretting it as the blue-haired invalid turned slightly.

"Oh, well…is she mad at me?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I'll tell her you called." Quickly, he hung up, tossing the phone on the recliner and settling back in to sleep. Finally, peace again. He could feel his mind totally letting go and drifting away to total relaxation when the woman suddenly moved. An eye cracked open, watching as she hesitantly wrapped an arm around his torso. He felt a sudden heat flush his cheeks, but made no move.

She gave him a small squeeze, resting her head on his shoulder. "Was that Yamcha?"

Vegeta blinked in surprise. "Is your hearing back?"

"Not completely. It's like I have a head cold…I can hear you, but it's kind of muffled."

Again he blinked, amazed at how her body was healing. "And your vision?" He sat up, resting on his elbow as he hovered above her.

Bulma shook her head. "No." He started to grind his teeth, but decided to stop. She was making progress at least. Now he wouldn't have to soil his own mind by invading hers. Joy.

"That was your weakling male," a sudden touch of anger hit him. "Do human males normally call so early in the morning?"

A smirk flitted across the woman's face. "Only the stupid ones."

"Huh," he replied, shoving the covers off of him. For a moment he was disoriented, taking in the girlish surroundings that screamed at him. Oh, right, he was in the woman's room, not his this time. Shaking his head to clear it, he picked his way over miscellaneous objects to get to the door.

"Where are you going?" The woman called out, grasping the covers closer to her body.

"For a run," was his only response.

* * *

Bulma gingerly rubbed her head, sure that she must've nearly cracked it open in the ruins of the GR. Her ears throbbed every once in a while, a good sign that her body had dedicated all its efforts to heal it. Thankfully, one sense had returned, relieving her of feeling like she should be shoved away in a home. Her vision still being gone worried her, but she couldn't do anything about that until she either went to the hospital or waited on her father to return.

She decided to go with the latter.

Her thoughts did a 180 as she mulled over the "Vegeta Situation". She was sure that this whole ordeal had probably rubbed him the wrong way, if his clipped answers and slight hissy fits were any indication. Of course, she couldn't blame him. This was a very inconvenient incident, even more-so since she was the only person on the entire compound able to rebuild the gravity room, cook—no matter how awful it was— and stand up to him.

And running?

Sure, the GR was completely totaled, and perhaps this was the only way for him to get an actual work out…but how unlike him! He could fly the circumference of the planet about a hundred times and still not break a sweat. She failed to see what a run around the neighborhood or city could do. Oh well, who could figure out a Saiya-jin male anyway?

"All boys are stupid," she concluded, planting her feet on the ground. A long yawn accompanied her stretches. Sleeping had done the trick, for sure. A smile stretched across her face as she shuffled towards her bathroom, wanting nothing more than to wash off soot and dried blood.

The vibration of the phone stopped her, soon followed by her ring tone. "I need to change that," an oomph followed as she tripped over a briefcase. "Dammit!" Reaching up to touch wherever the sound was coming from, she managed to grasp the phone in her hand, feeling for the seam to flip it open. "Yatta!"

"Moshi Moshi!"

"Bulma? You answered!"

The blue eyed woman rolled her eyes…or rather, she hoped she had. "Hey Yamcha. Long time, no speak."

Nervous laughter echoed back. "Heh, yeah! I just got back from my training excursion last night." Last night? He had always managed to call her the moment he stepped into civilization. Bulma's eyebrows furrowed, but she said nothing to betray her confusion.

"Oh? How'd it go?"

"It was alright. Training with Tien is no joke though." She could practically hear the shrug in his voice. If she wasn't so sure that Tien would blab about it, she would phone the three-eyed bodyguard and ask him if there was any training to begin with. "Then again, I put up a fight of my own."

"I'm sure you did." She practically gagged. Not talking to her other half in the longest time had allowed her the chance to get used to intellectual conversations with the opposite sex. The woman was sure that hearing Vegeta give his monologue on warriors and the Saiya-jin race was more beneficial to her brain cells than Yamcha's exaggerated stories. "I'd hate to cut this short, but I really gotta jump in the shower—"

"Well I just called to see if you wanted to do anything tonight. You're not busy, are you?"

Bulma's mind panicked. She would never be able to explain just what happened without her bandit of a boyfriend wigging out and pointing fingers at her surly housemate. Nor could she force herself to lie. What to do…what to do…what to do!

"I, uh…have been under the weather lately (cough, cough). I'd hate to get you sick." Lies, all lies! A silent sigh escaped her lips as Yamcha accepted her excuse and quickly said his adieus. Too quickly. No matter, she would be able to deal with him in time. Using her photographic memory to hop over wayward articles of clothing and other items, the young woman made her way to her personal bathroom.

* * *

**Ah, this one was also a bit off to me. That's ok. Bulma's got her hearing back...but what of her sight?**

**REVIEW!**


	11. For You

**Chapter Eleven: For You**

* * *

Gohan bobbed down the stairs just in time to see Bulma use her hand to guide her around the room with the wall. Her steps were jerky and unsure, making her look like a child that had just learned to walk. It was amusing, and would've made him laugh had he not felt so bad.

"Bulma-san!" He cried out, afraid that she would crash into the coat stand. The woman paused, body rigid. The kid finished jumping down the last few steps, skidding to a halt right next to the blue-haired scientist. "You—"

"This morning. It's clearing up very well. I still can't see though, as you've noticed." She smiled at the kid's genuine concern. So like his father.

"That's good!"

Bulma deduced that he must've run into Vegeta last night to know that much about her condition. "Guide me to the kitchen, will you? I'm hungry!" Gohan chimed in that he was starving, grasping her by the hand to lead her a few feet into the kitchen.

* * *

Door after door of each cabinet were opened in the kitchen. Bulma and Gohan had, quite literally, searched every inch of the kitchen for food. They had been fortunate enough to run across a jar of olives and two bottles of water.

Bulma was pissed. Severely.

On one hand, she was glad that her housemate had managed to fend for himself and scrounge up some food. And yet, she couldn't get over the fact that he hadn't left one bit of food in the house. "I can't believe this!" came her moaned wail as she slammed her fist down on the table. She was hungry, dammit! Starving even! Her eyes narrowed as various plans to scrap herself out of this mess ran through her complex mind.

Gohan thought better of even intervening, instead sitting back and nervously shifting in his seat. He had heard many tales of Bulma's unchecked rage—many comparing her to a charging bull moose reclaiming his territory—though he had only seen snips of it. The air crackled with something close to ki, though he was sure it wasn't it. The older woman sitting in front of him, though wonderful and family to him, had little power to speak of (or mention). The demi wanted to tell her to calm down a bit, due to a little vein in her neck that was popping out. It was freaky.

Just as he opened his mouth to try to soothe her raw nerves, in walked the man that had caused the entire morning to shift towards a downward spiral. His face held the same look as it always had, though it was shiny with sweat from his extended jog. Dark eyes swept over the kitchen, taking in the empty boxes, cartons, jars and bottles that had obviously been thrown on the floor in a fit of anger.

Bulma did not turn in his direction to acknowledge him. There would be no need to. "This place looks like hell," he commented, kicking offending items out of his way to get closer to the table. Stopping a foot away, Vegeta crossed his arms, quickly eyeing the woman in front of him. She seemed alright, minus the twitch she had given when he had spoken. Well, if she was annoyed, he would be effing pissed! Everything that was going wrong was technically her fault anyway.

"And I'm hungry."

That did it. The blue-haired onna let out a feral shriek that had him backpedaling at its suddenness. Eyes wide, he composed himself, partially relieved that Gohan looked as though he had nearly wet himself. Readying to make a quick escape, Vegeta was about to tiptoe past the blind woman, when she instantly reached out and had a firm hold on his wrist. How she came about those quick reflexes, he would never know.

"You," she hissed, still not bothering to try to face him, "take Gohan with you and get food."

Vegeta let out a snort. "Save your breath. I will do no such thing." Bulma's grip tightened.

"Yes, you will. Dammit! You ate all the food we had left! And if you haven't noticed yet, I can't fuckin care for myself in this department and my parents won't be here for Kami knows how long."

"Like I care," he clipped, yanking his arm out of her grip. "You've been too spoiled, having everyone do everything for you. No wonder Earthlings are such weaklings."

Bulma sputtered for a moment before she jumped out of her seat and poked a finger in his…stomach. She totally missed his chest, and had it not been for the battle they were in, he was sure he would've been amused. "Now listen here, ass—I may lead a pampered life, but I can take care of myself. I don't need to pound people to prove that I'm better than them or hold a grudge against the man who spared your life AND defeated the monster that destroyed your sanity. AAANNND," she grated, sure that he was going to cut in, "if I'm so pampered, you must be as well. You bellow like a baby when your damned machine is broken, you demand that my mother or me fix you food, you bitch when it's too hot—"

"Enough!" Vegeta hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously at the shorter woman. Keeping a firm hold on his temper, he slapped away her hand, earning a glare from her. He opened his mouth to let out a long list of previously spoken retorts, but no words formed. The strong-willed woman had quite literally deflated, plopping back in her seat, burying her face in her hands. Tears streaked down her arms as her shoulders shook with each muffled sob.

The Prince let out a small sigh. It was impossibly difficult to be a total ass to the woman who had given him a home, tended his wounds, etc. If anything, he owed her, and though he wasn't sure why he felt so compelled to repay the Briefs, he hated to owe anybody anything. Double damn. "Woman."

Bulma continued her small sobs, sniffling in frustration and anger. She hated to be so weak in front of him. It would only give him more ammunition in the long run, but her body was messed up and thus her hormones had to be too. Sobbing, she wallowed in her self-pity.

"Woman…"

She had to stop sometime, he concluded. But if he was going to lower himself to remotely help supply themselves with food, it had to end. Now. "WOMAN!" Her head popped up, eyes staring at the wall behind him. "Are you finished?"

After a few blinks, she managed a nod. "Good. Now where must I pick up our supply of food?"

A radiant grin stretched across her porcelain face as she slid a sticky pad and pencil to Gohan. "Here's the list: six loaves of bread, five dozen eggs…"

* * *

Vegeta clenched and unclenched his fists about a dozen times. Rarely had he ever ventured out into the depths of West City. He usually chose to overpass the entire sprawling metropolis and head to less populated areas, if only for the sake of keeping the stupid humans away from his training. But here he stood, in front of the supermarket, automatic doors remaining open because, little known to him, he stood directly underneath the sensors.

The young demi with him decided not to say anything that could set off the older man. It was a miracle that Bulma had managed to con him into coming here in the first place to do what the Prince had deemed "women's work". He chose, instead, to kick a stray pebble away from the black rug that had seen months of wear. It bounced recklessly against the doorway, leading to an awfully conspicuous dent and a bit of a "ping" sound.

The taller of the two flinched and glanced to his left where Kako-brat stood. The kid looked pretty apologetic, and held his hands in front of him as if to wave away any mal-wishing on Vegeta's part. The Saiya-jin could've cared less. He merely wanted to get this Kami-awful trip over with so he could at least do some training in the gardens of Capsule Corp. What a horrible turn of events this had been…

"Let's get this over with," muttered the man, rolling up the sleeves of the Earthling-wear he had been forced to change into. Gohan obediently followed, pulling out the neatly scribbled list that would guide them around the store.

* * *

A heavy sigh escaped the lips of the richest woman in the world. Being sightless was such a hindrance…it threatened to send her back into hysterics. So used to working with her hands, she could barely take the inactivity that came with her new health status. If she had to sum up how she was feeling at this point, she supposed "bored" would fit. Letting out a little laugh, Bulma straightened in her chair, fiddling around for her cell phone.

Flipping it open, she sucked in a gulp of air. How would she explain all of this? Her parents were always fairly understanding of all the stupid crap that could potentially go down in Bulma's life, but she had never really come out of anything scathed. But she couldn't go on hiding it, and though it pained her to interrupt their business-trip-turned-vacation, she had the family business to think of.

Pursing her lips, she pressed down on the "2", holding it to activate the speed-dial. "Right." It rang a few times before finally being answered by a sleepy sounding Dr. Briefs.

"Moshi moshi?"

"Hey dad," she hesitated, having no sense of what time it was.

Dr. Briefs sounded a bit surprised, but she could still hear a smile in his voice. "Hey Pumpkin, how's everything?"

Bulma twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Well, that's what I need to talk to you about. See, what had happened was…"

* * *

The grocery trip was going surprisingly well, despite the fact that Vegeta and Gohan had to change out the shopping cart about two or so times. The former had melted the handle of the first cart because a blonde bimbo had refused to make room in the isle for him to pass. The second cart had been traded in because the adult had also effectively rendered it useless….apparently ramming a cart into the meat freezer was not the best way to get people to move out of the way. It had only succeeded in drawing more attention.

Gohan managed to glare at the older man before him. "Vegeta-san, we can't keep destroying things here! Otherwise we'll never get out of here."

The kid had made a valid point, he supposed. Already they had wasted about an hour with the two incidents, and there was no telling how long it would take for them to check-out. "Yeah," he muttered yet again.

Rounding out the corner of the canned vegetables isle, they ran across two familiar figures—one trying his damnedest to hide his pointy green ears under the red baseball cap that was perched on his large head; the other let his hair run wild, as always, tossing a few cans of fruit into their cart.

" 'Tousan! Piccolo-san!" Gohan took off, zooming up to the shopping duo. Vegeta continued to grab miscellaneous cans as he neared his rival.

Goku smiled, patting his son on the head. "Hey Gohan! What're you doin' here?"

"Uhh, well, Vegeta-san and I had to do some grocery shopping."

Even Piccolo blinked a few times. "Shopping? Vegeta?"

The Prince finally reached them, crossing his arms as he tried to bat away the embarrassment of being caught in the supermarket. "Yes, shopping. What of it?"

The taller Saiya-jin placed his hand behind his head, in his normal fashion. "Heh, nothing I guess. I've just never pictured you doing something so…human." Immediately he had regretted phrasing it so, as Vegeta suddenly grabbed Goku's collar and tugged him down a few inches to stare him in the face.

"Now listen here Kakarot," he growled out, struggling to keep his voice down, "I am the Prince of all Saiya-jins! Never, and I mean _never_, will you ever find me doing something 'human'. This is only for necessity's sake, and don't you forget that."

"G-gosh Vegeta! I didn't mean anything by it, honest!"

Vegeta shoved him away, dusting his hands off and turning his back to them. "Tch," he replied.

Goku let out a bit of air, doing his best to straighten out his crumpled shirt. "Where's Bulma? I mean, she must be pretty busy if you two are here…" he trailed off, watching the Prince stiffen just a bit.

Gohan cut in, not wanting to see a quarter of the city get wiped out in Vegeta's rage. "She's back at CC. She's been feeling a bit sick so she couldn't leave the house and here we are, heh."

Being a father had its quirks, Goku guessed. One of them was being able to tell when your child is lying. And though Gohan had never really been much to fib about anything, here he was, trying to churn one out.

The wild-haired man raised an eyebrow.

* * *

Seconds of silence followed the long explanation Bulma had given her father. It seemed like minutes before he finally cleared his throat to ask if she was ok now.

"With the exception of my sight and some bruises, I feel fine. Honestly, I was going to wait until you and mom came home to get fixed up, but I'd rather not leave all of our projects at a standstill." She had long since left her hair alone and instead chose to nibble on her thumbnail.

"Well, I'm glad you called me dear," her father stated, letting out a bit of a sigh. "At least the accident only happened yesterday. We shouldn't wait any longer on your eyes though…there could be some long-term damage if we don't get'em checked out ASAP."

"Right," Bulma replied, "I'm really sorry that I interrupted your vacation dad."

"No worries! You're billions of times more important."

This, of course, brought a smile to the blue-eyed scientist's face. "Thanks dad."

* * *

"And, that's it," Gohan finished, watching as Goku's worried expression eased out into something more complacent. The kid never could understand his father, but at least he didn't look like he was about to dive into hysterics.

Goku grabbed one more can of pineapple and gently threw it into the cart. "That's a relief. At least she's ok! Who knew Bulma could survive just about anything?" He grinned, pushing the cart down the isle as Vegeta and the others followed.

"Aren't _you_ the least bit worried?" Asked the Prince, absently grabbing at some pasta, trying his best to look occupied.

"Well, no," Goku chirped, glancing at Piccolo. "Should I be?"

"You're her best friend."

"Bulma's been through a lot this past decade, Vegeta. If I didn't think she could handle it, I'd take her home to Chichi right now. As it is, I'm sure she'll tough it out. Besides, you could always call her parents if you're that worried."

Vegeta cringed. "I'm not worried! Why should I care?!" But the thought of calling the doctor and his wife, however unappealing, held some promise. He could be rid of the responsibility (and guilt, if he were honest with himself) of taking care of the woman and get back to training. Perhaps he could wrangle a new GR or two out of it. "Grr, I'm just wasting my time. Come on brat, we're finished here."

Gohan charged after the Prince, waving to his father and mentor before finally catching up. "I thought you said Bulma was going to be ok."

"She is," he mumbled, trying to shake off the unnatural concern he felt for her well-being.

&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~

**A/N: Sorry for the LONG wait. Writer's block, and just the fact that I'm not really into writing DBZ fanfics like I used to be. I'm trying though. I'm also trying to find a way to wrap this up, but I have so much left that I want to do, and just not enough words to do it in haha. We'll see though. If you're still reading, let me know. I'm on spring break and can work on this :D**


	12. Fallin'

**Chapter Twelve: Fallin'**

* * *

If he had to be honest with himself, he would describe the current feeling surging through his body as pure, unadulterated joy. One would probably be inclined to ask why, as this particular person was never one to really throw himself to the depths of such an emotion. He would much rather scowl and fight than ever feel the need to hop up and down like a squalling brat. As it was, he was elated, for there in what was once the rubble of his old, metal, torture chamber stood a gleaming, larger, _newer_ GR.

Jubilations!

Two weeks had passed since the second incident with his beloved gravity room. Two weeks since Bulma's parents had immediately returned home. Two weeks since her eyes had been healed, since she had returned to the sanctity of her labs, and two weeks since he had regained the ability to completely submerge himself in training. It had been difficult, he had to admit, to continue to train without the GR, and even more so when the two people who had designed it had placed it within a list of other projects. He had calmly bided his time, as he knew that the tiny, little splurge of guilt remaining from getting her involved in that accident was what was really keeping him from demanding that the GR be replaced.

Oh well.

His mental bitching and belly-aching was put to rest as he let his eyes graze over the newly polished and rebuilt structure. Had he been a human, he was sure he would've pissed his pants. As it was though, he let a ghost of a smile grace his face before he did a 180 and walked towards the house. Although he was itching to use his new toy, he knew he had to get something out of the way or he'd never have any peace. A part of him cursed this new-found gratefulness, while the other part encouraged the peace that it brought to his training regimen.

* * *

Porcelain-colored hands refrained from chucking the microchip they held across the room. It took quite a bit of strength and resistance, but she managed to instead place the green square back onto its stand. She had been working on the blasted thing for about four hours now and hadn't managed to get it in functioning order, choosing to blame it on the fact that it was alien technology and she had no idea how to fix it.

"Damn," she muttered, blinking away the blurriness from her eyes. They still bothered her from time to time, especially when she had to spend long hours in the lab, but overall they were back to normal. Her baby-blues would be well taken care of from now on. As it was, she needed a break. Shoving the mini-screwdriver to the side (along with everything else), she hopped up from her seat, feeling bones and joints pop from being stationary for so long. "Ah, much better."

"Getting old, are we?"

Her head whipped around, slightly unused to the sight of the man before her. They hadn't really been around each other much in the past two weeks. In fact, she could count the number of times she had seen him in that time span on one hand. It would've been very inconvenient indeed to run into one another, as weaknesses had been flying on both ends. Her blindness and his guilt had probably made them bond more than either would've deemed necessary. In simpler terms, it was weird, and she was internally freaking out. But externally, she was the same old badass as she had always been.

Raising a slender blue eyebrow, she placed a delicate hand on her hip. "If I recall correctly, you're older than I am."

The man before her flashed a toothy-smirk while crossing his arms. "At least my age doesn't show." He hoped she would take the bait; part of him rather enjoyed these verbal spars.

"What do you want?" She sighed, taking a swig from a wayward water bottle.

He shrugged, inclining his head towards the window where the dome stood, still sparkling and gleaming. And still unused. "I saw the new GR."

"Oh? Dad finished it up this morning. He figured you probably had a case of cabin fever by now."

"Hn."

They regarded each other for a moment, probably relishing the moment of awkward peace that was never fully enforced when either was in the other's presence. The weirdness was still there and it would most likely never fade away as it does between two friends that have a relationship throughout the years. These two were still too different and very much wary of their company.

She was the first to look away, of course. Her resolve began to fade under his scrutinizing gaze and she couldn't bear to have him analyze her any longer. "So, do you like it?"

Her voice shook him out of his reverie. Quite out of character, he fixed her with a puzzled gaze. "Huh?"

"The GR," she clarified, pointing towards the window with an elegant finger. Her eyes lingered on the machine, hoping to Kami that it could withstand his maltreatment for a few weeks.

He kept his gaze fixed on her, watching as she lightly pinched her lower lip between her teeth. Funny, he had never really noticed the association between the action and her current emotional state. She bit her lip when she was anxious. Such a normal action, but for some unfathomable reason, it intrigued him.

"It looks to be better than the old one."

"What? You mean you haven't tried it yet?" She dared a glance in his direction.

"No."

"Seriously?!"

"Is it really that hard to believe?" His usual scowl began to resurface.

Absently she pushed a lock of blue behind her ear, smiling to herself as she shook her head. "Sorry, I guess I had assumed you saw it this morning and locked yourself away in there. I'm so used to the hum from the generator that I didn't realize it had never been turned on."

It had been there since the morning? How unobservant had he become? Mentally he continued to berate himself, blaming everything from the lack of training to the backwater planet he was stuck on. She merely watched him, noting how his eyes widened slightly and the lower lip pouted out slightly when he was puzzled. He looked 'cute', really, although she would never risk her skin to say that out loud. Part of him still appeared to be a little boy that just needed to be hugged and coddled. The sane part of her, however, highly cautioned against it, so she chose to shoot down the idea and never resuscitate it ever again. Bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts!

Just as she opened her mouth to lift the tenseness from the air, he blurted out a "thanks" before spinning on his heel and trudging off to the GR. Her blue eyes followed his muscular form as he easily slid into the capsule, locking himself away to probably beat himself senseless for hours.

Oh yeah, major weirdness points there.

* * *

"The old bat's here," Vegeta muttered, standing in the threshold of his housemate's room. It was dimly lit, as she was hunched over a blueprint at her desk, squinting to make out the scribbles hastily written out. Once she had processed the man's message, however, her back straightened, eyes widened, and she gaped for a moment before collecting herself.

Bulma's grip tightened to the point of snapping her pencil in half. "W-what?"

"You heard me."

She hopped up from her chair, taking a few long strides to stand before the Saiya-jin. The sweats she wore hung loosely on her hips, and her tank top left little to the imagination. Discretely, he took a step back, wanting very much to not have to do that, but the mere fact that he had noticed bothered him.

"You're kidding!" The blue-haired woman whispered fiercely, hopping from foot to foot to keep from screaming out her agitation. When his gaze held the same, expressionless look as before, she hissed out a "damn" before darting to her closet to change into something more 'presentable'.

Bulma's grandmother—the woman deemed as the 'old bat'—had a habit of criticizing anything and everything associated with Dr. Briefs. This included Bulma, although not nearly to the same extent as material goods. Mrs. Kelley _could _be quite as ditzy as her daughter (Bulma's mother), and wanted nothing more than to make Dr. Briefs uncomfortable in every way possible. Vegeta very much disliked the hag, although there was something to be admired in her blunt responses. His first encounter with her had almost ended in disaster (and disaster usually meant the destruction of half the neighborhood). She had liked absolutely nothing about him: his hair was too black, his eyes too narrow, skin too pasty, muscles too compact…on and on it went until he had accidentally melted the fork he held in his hand. Bulma had quickly escorted him out of the room, where he then proceeded to leave the compound and destroy some uninhabited island.

Now she was back, and though he would've much rather spent his time in anyone else's company, he was a little curious to see what she would have to say this visit. For some odd reason, Bunny had thought it a good idea to inform Mrs. Kelley of Bulma and his brush with death (even though death had never even come close to touching him). Perhaps that was what this visit was for…another reason to blame the good doctor on something that had been out of his control.

"I don't have anything to wear!" whined the woman from her closet. He personally didn't care, as he was hungry and could probably eat them out of house and home right now. The Prince changed his mind, however, when Bulma bounded out of her closet, in a decent—but _delicious_—looking dress. "How's this," she asked, doing a quick twirl before him.

Maybe he was still recovering from the accident, but in that very moment, he was floored. That's not to say that he had never noticed the woman's beauty; she did point it out to him on a weekly occasion. But to see her stand there, in a form-fitting blue dress…he nearly gaped openly at her. His passive expression remained the same, as usual, but he couldn't help his eyes as they betrayed him.

"Well?" Bulma did a slower twirl, glancing a few times in the mirror to make sure the dress was still spotless and pressed.

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably to his other foot. "You look…" With her attention focused on him, he lost the rest of his sentence. Damn her doe-like stare!

"…Nice." The grin that spread across her face was almost enough to make him continue, but he decided to cross his arms over his chest. What the hell was wrong with him anyway?

The woman wasn't stupid. She knew better than to get overtly irritated that his compliment was lacking. To say that she looked nice in the dress was the nicest thing he had ever said to her in the first place. One didn't need to push the Saiya-jin to know that he could take it back in a heartbeat. Instead, she beamed.

"Thanks," she replied, absently brushing at the skirt. "We need to get you into something more…acceptable. I doubt Grandma would be all too silent on what you're wearing now." Although, personally, she'd hate to have him change out of his running shorts. Of course he was athletic, but that one tiny garment detail made him look all the more human and less like the brute he usually was.

Vegeta felt his frown deepen. "The hell I care what that bat thinks of my appearance."

"Oh, come _on_, Vegeta! You know we'll never hear the end of it at dinner if you don't have a shirt on." Determined to be a smartass, he shrugged on the shirt that had been hanging limply around his neck. "Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, ass. I'm serious! Please go shower, and _please_ put on slacks and a shirt!"

"No."

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, praying to all that was holy that the man could cooperate with her just this once. How had they gone from getting along to him being a complete ass again? Well, not a complete ass. He had definitely improved in the civility area…but that was not to say that they suddenly got along. That would take years and years of work, and with the stress he was inducing, she highly doubted she'd live to see next year. What a jerk.

But he was a man. And men could be swayed one way or another through careful methods. Gaining up the courage (and shooing away the sudden exhaustion), she managed to cross the room to stand as close as the Prince could stand. Her eyes nearly widened as she felt the heat radiating from his body. Sure, his alien body ran a higher temperature than most humans could stand, but it seemed even more intense after he had finished his work out. Shaking it off, she clasped her hands under her chin.

"_Please_, Vegeta?" Batting her eyelashes proved to be an annoyance, but one she suffered through silently. "I know Grams isn't the easiest person to deal with, but if you don't get dressed you can't come to dinner. And if you don't come to dinner, she'll think you're avoiding her." True, but the old hag wouldn't care. "If she thinks that, she's bound to stick around. Secretly, I think she likes you…" A lie, but she could deal with that later. "You don't want her to stick around too long, do you?"

Her husky voice and mere proximity had thrown him off. All Vegeta could manage was a weak shake of the head.

"Won't you please get ready for dinner then?"

An equally puzzled nod answered.

Managing to put on the sexiest smirk she could, she leaned on her tiptoes, inches away from his face. "Thank you," she whispered, sure as ever that he could hear her. Quickly she turned away and rushed to her bathroom, feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Vegeta was left looking after her, still shocked, before shaking his head and spinning on his heel towards his bathroom.

This planet was _ruining _him.

* * *

"Bunny, dearest, you're looking as lovely as ever," claimed the old woman in a stuffy tone. She embraced her youngest daughter, eyeing the odd family behind her with the most critical glance.

Vegeta felt boredom and exhaustion strike his body with severity. He was almost tempted to bolt to his room, but his stomach won out that argument almost immediately. Instead, he let out a soft sigh, trying his best not to glare at the humans before him. His hands settled in his pockets—Bulma asked that he try not to scare whomever Grandma brought to dinner this time—and he waited to be acknowledged by the seemingly 200 year-old woman.

"Briefs, how are you?" The old woman turned her eyes on her son-in-law.

He didn't miss a beat. "Very well, mother. So glad you could join us for dinner today."

"Hmm, I'm sure." She turned to her blue-haired granddaughter. "Well child, how are you?"

Bulma struggled not to roll her eyes at her grandmother's treatment of her father. After two and a half decades, she was sure that she was used to it, although it never ceased to give her the slightest hint of irritation. "Fine, Grandma. You remember Vegeta, don't you?"

"Oh. Yes," she shuffled over to the alien prince, nearly half a foot shorter than him. She stuck out her hand and he took it, though he wanted very much to toss her towards the dining room so they could eat already. He stopped those thoughts, as Bulma was eyeing him with one of the evilest looks she had managed yet. Vegeta was nearly impressed.

Ever the gentleman, and still a Prince, he bowed politely and quickly pressed his lips to her wrinkled hand. "Mrs. Kelley, always a…pleasure," he managed, watching as a pleased look passed her face.

"Yes, yes. My Bulma, it seems your taste in men is improving. This one is much better than I had originally given him credit for. Better than that Yamcha. Definitely a keeper."

Bulma sputtered, feeling her face flame again as the taboo thought of her and Vegeta—**together**—passed through her mind's eye. "Grandma, it's—it's not like that between us. We're just…friends." Or as close to the definition of friends one could get.

"Hmm," the old woman replied, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I see. Yes, well, let me introduce Thomas. He's recently joined your grandfather's company, may he rest in peace." A tall man walked in, his eyes a sort of gray-blue, with dark hair. His complexion nearly rivaled Vegeta's. "And here's Angela. She's my new secretary. They're twins," she crowed, laughing lightly as a woman walked in to join her brother. They were much the same in coloring, though her hair was a bit more brown than black. After a series of greetings, and some staring from the Briefs' household, they filed into the dining room to begin their meal.

* * *

**Sorry this took so long! I've been busy running errands and working out so there hasn't been much time for this…although I hope this chapter makes up for it! So now we see Bulma and Vegeta come full circle…they can't act like they have before, but they're too afraid to get any more friendlier, heh heh. Next chapter ought to be interesting ;)**

**In case anyone was wondering, their names weren't mentioned in the first part of this chapter because they didn't really know who they were at that point. They've changed so much throughout this story that they didn't understand what was going on in their heads haha! So review and I shall work on this next chapter!!**


	13. Show Me

**A/N: I finally graduated college! And now I'm lulling about waiting to commission! WOOOO :D Hahaha, so that's my excuse for this chapter being WAY late. I hope it doesn't disappoint. It took about 6 months to complete because it is the point at which the tide turns. Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Show Me**

* * *

It was the third time someone's foot had _accidentally_ rubbed his calf, and it was getting annoying fast. Dinner, for the most part, was running smoothly. Mrs. Kelley kept ogling Thomas, gloating over all the things he had improved in her husband's business. Vegeta mainly kept himself busy by planning world domination, or something hardcore. He began to lose track of just what exactly he had been musing over when the game of "footsies" began. He knew who the culprit was at this point…the sly glances she continuously threw his way were enough to make him grind his teeth. She was trying oh so hard to be discreet but it only agitated him further.

"Would you quit looking so dark and evil? You're gonna scare our guests," Bulma mumbled to him as she took a sip of her water.

"I _am_ dark and evil, and that woman keeps rubbing my leg." He tried to shoot Angela another frustrated glare; it basically went over her head. Thinking his glares were more related to stares, she offered a wink back, causing Vegeta to sputter and lose what little patience he had to begin with.

Just as he was readying some sort of plan to blast away the annoying human, Bulma grabbed his fist. He hadn't realized how hard he had been gripping his fork—although the now melted puddles of silver glimmered from the table—but apparently _she_ had. Amazing how something as simple as contact could distract him from his death-bringing on the idiotic female in front of him.

Then again, it wasn't just _contact_ of any sort, but contact from _her_. The woman had been on the throws of his mind for weeks now, something he had primarily summed up as a guilt trip, but now he wasn't so sure. She was a distraction, of that he was certain. And he could not afford any more distractions.

Yanking his fist free from her grasp, lest she bewitch him any further, he pushed away from the table and fled the dining room.

* * *

"I am getting _old_," muttered Bulma as she stared into her vanity mirror. The clock read 22:23 and already she could feel her bed calling. The night had passed pleasantly, despite Angela and Thomas' constant need to establish their presence in the house. Vegeta had run off to, presumably, the GR, and her parents were entertaining her grandmother in the library. The twins had been placed in the guest wing along with the aging bat, though Bulma was sure they were playing lap-dog to her grandmother downstairs.

It seemed like the best idea to call it a night. She was tired, a bit behind on work, and hadn't been in the office all afternoon. A slight sigh escaped her lips as she realized there would be a mountain of paperwork on her desk in the morning. Kicking off her slippers and shrugging off her robe, she flung herself onto her bed. The sheets were cool to the touch, and despite the cold weather outside, they were comforting in the warm house. Her body began to relax and she was sure sleep was soon to claim her when a few raps sounded from her balcony windows. Usually she wouldn't have bothered to notice, but after Zarbon's very random appearance several weeks ago…well, one couldn't be too cautious. Picking up her nearest weapon (a wayward stiletto), she tip-toed to the doors, sneakily trying to move the curtains to get a better look at who it was without being caught herself.

The flame-haired silhouette and bored stare met her on the other side. Annoyed, she chucked the shoe behind her and swung open the doors. "Vegeta, what the hell? Was the front door not good enough for you?" He merely glared, shoving his way past her into the room.

Bulma huffed, finding the irritation she always felt in his presence slowly returning. She took a few long strides, standing a few feet away from him. They glared at each other for a few minutes before she finally gave in and broke the silence. "Honestly, what gives? I—" He held up a hand, willing her to shut up just this once. She complied, though obviously angry enough to spit fire.

"I need a spaceship."

Blue eyes blinked back a few times. "A what?"

"Spaceship. Preferably by the end of the week."

"I—I don't understand." Surely he had to be joking.

Vegeta's frown deepened. "What's to understand? I need to get off of this idiotic, useless sphere."

Ouch. "But why?"

"My training is already far behind and with all the ridiculous events that happen around here it's bound to get worse." He let out a bit of a sigh. At this rate there was really no telling how far behind he really was, but he didn't want to run the risk of completely slacking off with such a lax lifestyle. The Saiya-jin had made a resolution in the GR to not put up with any more distractions.

"Oh," she mumbled, "I see." She hadn't expected to feel anything other than sheer joy, but the world seemed to stop in that very moment. "How long will you need it for?"

The Prince shifted from one leg to the other, reclining against the shut balcony door. "I…don't know. Long enough to achieve what I need to achieve."

"Cryptic."

"I don't need to explain myself to you," he hissed, his nose suddenly centimeters away from hers. "Just give me what I require and we can both be on our merry little ways."

"Fine," she hissed back. She spun on her heel, stomping her way over scattered papers and books to her desk. Furious scribbles filled the suddenly suffocating room. "I'll do what I can. I can't make any promises that it'll be done by the end of the week."

"Fine."

"Promise me something."

Vegeta froze, already halfway out on to the balcony. "What?"

"Don't do anything reckless or stupid—even for you. Kami knows why, but part of me thinks I'd miss you if anything happened to your brooding ass." She stayed facing her desk, feeling betrayed by emotions she figured could never be linked to this alien she lived with.

The Saiya-jin, on the other hand, couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. He turned around, walking back into her room, and stood directly behind her. Part of him wanted to reach out and hold her while the other part restrained him. He couldn't figure out what was happening to him right now, nor was he quite sure that he really wanted to know. It was frightening—an emotion he wasn't used to anyway.

But she looked so defeated; it was a look that he didn't like to see hover over her. It settled around them like the heaviest of fogs. He sighed. The planet wasn't _ruining_ him—it had already _happened_. He had been doomed the moment he had accepted the Briefs' invitation to move in to one of the many spare bedrooms within the compound and had merely signed his own death warrant the more at home he had become with them. Damn decision. Now he stood behind her, unsure of what he was going to do, but certain that it had to happen or his training excursion in space would be as fruitless as it was on-planet.

So he wrapped his arms around her. Granted, it was not the first time, but voluntarily doing it felt a wee bit different than doing it for the sake of survival.

Bulma was startled, that much he could tell. She had jumped a bit before relaxing completely in his embrace. It was odd to him—let's face it, nobody had ever relaxed in his arms of their own free will; they were usually dead within seconds—but it was an interesting feeling. He would almost call it "nice".

The woman turned around slowly, returning the gesture and sighing into his shirt. It was a nice moment, one that she was sure she would keep forever locked away in her memory until she was old and grey and on the verge of passing on to the next life. "Now I'm going to miss you more," she mumbled, tightening her grip. Oh sure, he had just been a total asshole minutes beforehand, but moments like these could help her forget seconds like those.

He merely grunted, willing himself to not think too hard about what was happening. It was just better to store the thoughts for later where he could freak out on a planet, while training, and take out all of his frustrations there. He squashed the urge to laugh as the image of himself, almost caveman-like, threw a giant tantrum on some planet that looked strangely like Namek. Instead, he buried his face in her hair, realizing how off his day would be not being able to smell the lavender scent of her hair—or ki, strangely enough—or verbally spar with her to keep his mind from rotting away due to boredom. Yes, he would miss the tiny, annoying banshee he held to his chest.

Neither was sure just how many minutes had passed while they embraced and honestly it hadn't felt like that long at all. Vegeta could feel the woman growing more and more limp in his arms; she was probably falling asleep. A warm feeling filled his chest as he suddenly realized that she fully and whole-heartedly trusted him. She hadn't shied away from his arms—she melted right into them. Her own furious embrace was weak compared to what he could actually do with his own world-crushing arms. But still, she clung to him as if he were her only lifeline to the world. And he clung right back. It struck him as a bit funny that he was only willing to come to terms with this as soon as he had made up his mind to leave. It was as if fate had decided this was the best course of action not only for himself, but for the beautiful woman he held in his arms.

Mind made up, he began to pull himself away from the lulling woman, surprised when her eyes lit up, shaking off the sleep that was about to consume her. She gazed straight into his dark depths, rendering him breathless for a moment. He knew that those eyes would most likely haunt him during his off-world training excursion, but his resolve was set. Instead, he leaned forward, absently brushing a wayward lock of bangs away from her face. Bulma's wide-eyed stare instantly shifted to a half-lidded gaze. Her heart thundered in her chest while a blush graced her usually pale features; she was sure it was beating so hard that he could hear. She leaned forward, feeling her hands fist his night shirt, grasping on for dear life.

Just as he was certain that his lips were about to claim her suddenly luscious looking ones, the shrill tone of her evil cell phone barged it's newly melodic tone across the room. He felt her freeze, startled by the sudden interruption. Her gaze settled on the offending contraption and he was sure that it shrank back in fear of the burning look she was sending it. He let out a long sigh, still nose-to-nose with his housemate.

"You should probably get that," he mumbled, restraining himself from blasting it and every other phone in the house to the next dimension.

Bulma's own steely eyes pinned him to the spot. "No," she growled, feeling the burning sensation of embarrassment and frustration prick the back of her eyes. "Let it ring."

Vegeta felt a hint of a smirk slide across his face. "So determined," he stated, tucking another annoyingly rebellious lock of hair behind her ear. "You should be in bed. A long week awaits you. I expect my spaceship to be done soon, Bulma. No hold ups."

"Okay," she replied, her nod causing their noses to rub in an Eskimo kiss. Bulma nearly laughed at the irony.

She barely managed to suppress a squeak as Vegeta hoisted her into his arms, depositing her neatly and comfortably in her bed. Sheets fluttered over her as he efficiently tucked her in. For a moment she thought he would hop in and curl around her, but he only looked at her a few more fleeting seconds before spinning on his heel to head towards the balcony.

"Vegeta," she called out, watching as he stopped yet again in mid-stride. "Goodnight." Her face flushed, but she couldn't help herself. The man was about to disappear for Kami knows how long. Her chest ached with the realization that would be here for only a week longer and might never return to their peace-loving planet.

He turned his head, a strong hand holding the balcony door open. "Goodnight," he replied, before quietly closing the glass door. Bulma could see his silhouette as he hopped from her balcony to his.

Her eyes glanced back at her phone, willing it to melt into a puddle of plastic and aluminum. She grabbed it, sure that it had cracked under the fury of her grasp. Blue eyes widened marginally as she read the caller ID.

Yamcha…


	14. Wrong From Right

**Chapter Fourteen: Wrong From Right**

* * *

The phone now vibrated in her slender hand. Too frustrated to call him back after the first call, she had switched the ringer off and snapped it shut. Her eyebrows shot dangerously low as she felt a scowl etch itself onto her features. The guilt that had originally bubbled up had ebbed into absolute fury. Where had the idiot gone off to? Oh sure, he had called her a while back, but after his hasty well-wishing that she would recover from her "illness", he had never bothered to follow up with another call. She was tempted to chuck her cell through the glass windows (and let's face it, relieve all sorts of tension), but instead she took a deep break and answered her phone.

"Hello," she stated, surprised that her voice sounded calm as opposed to the dangerous growl she was sure to let loose.

"Bulma!" he cried, though she could hint the barest amount of exhaustion beneath his greeting. "Did I wake you up?" He almost seemed hopeful…

She turned on her side, glaring at the wall that was decorated with pictures of their old adventures. "No, I was just getting ready for bed." Only the partial truth. In reality she had wanted to screech at him for ruining a perfect moment with the stoic housemate that was about to leave her and never return.

Oh right. Yamcha was still _technically_ her boyfriend. Shit.

"That's a relief," he replied, a nervous laugh wrapping itself around his words. The blue-eyed woman felt her glare darken. "You know, we haven't talked for a while. I've been off training a bit with Tien. My manager thinks it would help my baseball career a bit if I kept up martial arts."

"Ah, that's nice."

"Yeah! I never really noticed how out of shape I was…"

"Uh huh."

"Puar says I eat too much junk food, but honestly I think she's just being a nag…"

"Hn."

On and on he went, about everything that had occurred in the past few weeks. Bulma let out long sighs on more than one occasion, sure she was about to knock on Vegeta's door and beg him to put her out of her misery. It was sad, she realized, how absent Yamcha had been from her life as of late. She had been so used to his useless chatter—and threw back her own at nearly every turn—but now she could hardly stand it. Somewhere between their long, lost date and this very night, she had outgrown the crazy desert bandit that had stolen her heart. He was simply too caught up in his playboy lifestyle to really pay her any attention. After all, someone would've called her to let her know he was still alive. Sadly enough, she mused, she hadn't really thought about him much since his last phone call.

"…And then Krillin came up for about two days, but it started to get pretty cold so—"

"Yamcha…why did you call me out of the blue?"

She could practically hear him blink in confusion on the other end of the line. "I figured I should let you know that I'm home," he said slowly, obviously becoming a bit offended. "You know, like I said before. We haven't talked much these past couple of months, and I've been so busy with baseball and training."

"I know. I understand that. It just feels like…well, it feels like we aren't in much of a relationship anymore. We're comfortable and in the habit of being together," she replied carefully, not really sure of what she was saying, but knowing that she needed to say it regardless.

"Yeah," he huffed, "I offered to come take care of you when you were sick but you said no. And you never called me back!"

Bulma rolled her eyes, feeling her frustration return full-force. "I'm…sorry. Look, us arguing about that isn't going to help the situation. Can you honestly say that you thought of me at all while you were away?"

"Yes!"

"…really?"

"Okay, well, no. I knew you would be here when I got back. Oh. I get it."

She felt her thin-lipped frown turn into an all too familiar cheeky grin. As much as she loved Yamcha—and was sure she always would—he could be fairly dense. They shared a small laugh as reality dawned on them both.

"I guess I always knew it was coming down to this. We've been together a long time. But you know I love you, right Bulma?"

Her smile softened, and part of her wish she could wrap her arms around him just to show the depth of her own love and regard for the scarred warrior. "Yes, and I love you too, Yamcha. We just can't keep this up anymore. You and I have had good memories and we love each other dearly. But we've outgrown each other."

"You're right," he sighed, "you always are. So, this is it? It's over?"

"Mm, it's over," she replied, surprised to feel a couple of tears trail down her cheek and splash on her pillow. It was the right thing to do, that she knew for sure. "Friends?"

"Absolutely! I've been around you for 10 years, B. You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

* * *

The clicking of heels was all that could be heard down the long, metallic hallways of the all-too-sacred Briefs' labs. Bulma wasn't exactly sure how long she had been buried in the chambers of her sanctuary, and quite frankly she didn't really want to know. Massive mugs of coffee and heaps of dark chocolate kept her fueled for most of the day, although now she was ready to strip out of her greasy, grimy lab clothes and into her fluffy pj's.

Stepping outside of the labs, she was startled to notice the white blanket that covered the ground, as well as the soft, lazy fall of snowflakes. When had this happened? Surely she hadn't been stowed away _that_ long…had she? Bulma shook off the shock, choosing instead to stand in the middle of her lawn, soaking in the comfort of snow and the reminder that soon her favorite holidays would be upon them and she could see all of her friends and family again.

"Aren't you cold?" came the deep voice from her left. She turned her head to view her housemate, surprised that he was decked out in grey sweats and a black, long-sleeved tee. He lazily shifted his weight to his other foot, regarding her with a look she just couldn't recognize.

The week had passed without much incident. Bulma had lived in her lab, working tediously on the spaceship, testing everything that could be tested and stocking it with enough supplies to last about three months. Neither had seen each other since the somewhat-awkward night in Bulma's room. Seeing him now, however, made her heart stutter. She had already missed the verbal spats and random peaceful trysts during meals…and he hadn't even left the planet yet.

"No," she finally replied, pulling her lab coat tighter around herself. "I like the cold. Gives me a reason to cuddle up to something warm."

"Really?" he challenged, feeling a particularly wicked muse take over him. He dug his boot into the snow, surprised at how soft and light it still felt, and kicked a decent chunk over to the exhausted-looking scientist. She sputtered in response, her cheeks flushing with mild embarrassment as she realized just _what_ he was hinting at, but she paid no mind.

His eyes followed her form as she gracefully bent over, picking up a giant wad of fresh snow from the now-white earth. "You…you wouldn't dare," he said, already standing his ground. Too proud to turn tail and run from the cold punishment that had been flung his way, he merely stood there, a somewhat surprised look on his face as it hit him squarely between the eyes.

"I think I just did."

Vegeta felt a playful growl escape his throat as he kicked up more snow, momentarily blinding the woman and submitting her to a mini-flurry of his own creation. He grinned, hearing her sputtering some more around a mouthful of snow and misplaced pieces of grass. Shock filled his mind once again as he saw two dainty hands shoot towards him, shoving him to the ground with the full-force if it's weak, human body. They rolled in the snow a few times before succumbing to giggles, smirks, and the unspoken agreement to just call a draw.

Bulma sat perched on top of the prince, straddling his chest. She was somewhat amazed that she had managed to stay this close to him for this long, but decided against questioning it. The world around them wasn't nearly as frozen with him so near. She had managed to forget just how high the Saiya-jin's body temperature was, but now it would be forever seared into her memory.

"I can't believe the Prince of all Saiya-jins just frolicked in the snow."

His answering scowl caused the corner of her lip to quirk up in a fond realization that she had expected that sort of reaction. "I did not frolic. You challenged me and I had no choice but to accept."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

The woman shifted slightly, brushing some snow off of her coveralls and straightening her lab coat a bit. She glanced down at him, surprised to find him staring up at the starry sky. The light rain of snow hadn't gotten any heavier, nor had it lessened. Laying like that, the crystalline forms landing on and around him, he looked like any other human. Of course, she would never tell him that, lest he bash her head into the snow for speaking such blasphemy. She merely stored the sight away in her memory.

"You haven't been around all week." His dark eyes shifted to her face for a moment before returning to the inky-dark sky.

"Well, I do remember a certain brute coming into my room, late at night, demanding that I have a spaceship ready for him sometime within the following week."

"You…you've been working on it all this time?"

Bulma blinked a few times. He seemed genuinely surprised. "Yes," she replied slowly, flicking a few clumps of snow off of his shoulder, "I mean, I did promise that I would. Not that I'm in a hurry to see you go or anything. Kami knows I'll be absolutely bored out of my mind. But, I understand."

The slightly older man sat up, feeling her slide down to rest comfortably in his lap. "You understand." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, I guess I do. You need to train. Even though your goal is to become a Super Saiya-jin and beat the crap out of Goku, who am I to stand in the way of your dreams?"

Vegeta peered down at the woman, trying his best not to openly gape at her. She was too busy fiddling with a loose stitch on the hem of her sleeve to notice anyway. He felt that weird, warm feeling flit across his chest again. For a moment he was tempted to fling his body into the snow in an attempt to ward it off…but restrained himself instead. It felt good, really it did. Granted he felt like a weakling, a stupid school-boy, and Kakarot all in one, but it felt _right_. That this little human could cause him to feel as he did was nothing short of a miracle. He reminded himself that he was an evil, twisted weapon of death and not some emotional fool. But it was still a pleasant change to know that someone in this universe didn't run away from him, screaming bloody murder at the top of their lungs. Even if he didn't want to fully acknowledge it, he knew he would return this place, if only to have someone smile at his return.

"Hmm. When will it be done?"

She stared up into his eyes, taking time to bite her lip before answering. "Tomorrow," her gaze shifted to the side, "I wanted to run some diagnostics on it after I screw in the back-up generator in the morning. It should be fully-functional and ready to go in the afternoon."

Vegeta nodded, letting out a bit of a sigh that fanned her face. She smiled sadly, brushing some more snow out of his spiky hair. "I packed it with enough food to last you a solid three months."

His eyebrow quirked up. "Only three months?"

"I was playing it safe. The ship isn't really that big—but I'll show you around in the morning. Call me crazy, but I have a feeling that you're not going to need that much time up there for training."

"Maybe not," he smirked.

She glanced down at her watch. It was only a little past nine. "What are you doing out of the GR so early anyway? I figured you'd still be kicking ass in there."

He sighed again, leaning back on his hands. "Even I know that it's healthy to take the night off before I throw myself into some intensive training. I will only eat, sleep, and train in space; this is the only moment of relaxation I will allow myself."

Bulma's mouth formed an 'o' as she raked her hand through her long, wavy hair. She absently decided that it would need to be cut relatively soon. Her own sigh reached him, the smell of coffee overwhelming his senses. "What if…" She twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.

"What?" he probed, stretching out an arm before placing it back to support his weight.

"What if…you don't really improve as much as you want to in space?"

His stare darkened, the corners of his mouth pulling into an angry frown. "You doubt me?"

"N-no!" She exclaimed, closing the gap between their chests in an attempt to calm the now irate man she still sat on. "I know you're going to get stronger with your training out there. But, what if you're not happy with the outcome? Even with all of the time and effort invested: what if you don't feel up to par with where you want to be to challenge Goku?"

The frown slowly eased off his face as a thoughtful look replaced it. "I suppose I would come back and just keep training here." Bulma felt herself beaming with the news. She didn't know when she had become so attached to him, but she wasn't about to question her heart. The elation nearly died as the man fixed her with another look. "You speak too freely of the impending battle between Kakarot and I. You do realize that it will be a great battle, one that may destroy this planet in our wake."

Bulma gulped, daring to look him in the eye as she shrugged. "I try not to think _that_ far ahead. I know that it's a certainty that you and Goku are going to duke it out one day. As far as I'm concerned, we're going to construct a planet for you two to do as you please with while you're settling you're differences."

"You act as though this were a social call. This battle will be to the death."

"It doesn't have to be," she said softly, grasping his arms with her slender fingers.

He tried to ignore the tiny spurts of electricity that shot through his body at this simple touch. "It does. He has shamed me one too many times. We both know what awaits us in the near future."

Her head cocked to the side, causing his eyes to flick from the soft shift of her hair to the exposed skin of her neck. "You're stubborn."

"I never claimed I wasn't," he replied with a chuckle.

She smiled, letting her own laugh escape from her kissable-looking lips as she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and locking him in an embrace. He felt his face heat in indignation as his dark eyes swept over the yard of the compound. Nobody seemed to be out, and although his mind screamed that he should chuck the woman out into the road for daring to do something as ridiculous as hug him, he squashed the thought. Her scent permeated his senses once again, reminding him of the fact that he would be zooming out of the earth's atmosphere in less than a day. Instead of rebuking her, he hugged her back, satisfied that it would not affect him greatly in any way.

His mind wandered to the night in Bulma's room a week beforehand. "You know, I've never been patient in dealing with interruptions." The woman peeled away from him, confusion locking her features and she analyzed the man in her arms.

"I don't underst—" Her mind reeled as his lips locked over hers, sending a lovely tingling sensation from the top of her head, down her spine, to the very tips of her toes. He held her tightly to him, and much to her surprise, didn't feel like he was going to let go any time soon. She let her arms wrap around his neck again, tugging him even closer than she thought possible.

Bulma felt her mind go blank as he slowly pulled away, letting out a few shuttering breaths as he leaned back in a few more times to give her softer kisses. They leaned their foreheads against each other, both taking a moment to collect themselves. "This seems like the opposite of relaxing to me," she laughed, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I think it's the perfect way to 'let loose', as you humans like to put it." He smirked at her, gently rubbing his nose against her own. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt part of himself groan and shake his head in disbelief. Thank Kami he was leaving the planet tomorrow—the humanization of this Saiya-jin was about to solidify itself.

"Such a distraction, Prince Vegeta, from a tiny, weak human like myself?"

"Why not," he growled, swooping her up in his arms as he stood up. Yet again she squeaked, mentally berating herself for not being used to this by now.

She smiled cheekily, letting out a small gasp as he sailed across the yard and up to her balcony. Her heart's staccato picked up as she realized just what he had in mind. His hand paused over the handle of the French door's that lead in to her room. With his back to her, she couldn't read the expression in his eyes and wished so desperately that she could. The face that was trained to remain blank and emotionless couldn't kill the flicker of his eyes as raw emotion passed through them.

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." His husky voice sent shivers down her spine. "This is your chance to say no. I will turn around and go to my room…and we will go back to exactly as we were before."

Bulma shook her head (not that he could see the action). Deep down she knew that after last week, nothing would ever be the same between them. Fate had brought them together for whatever crazy reason and deemed it necessary that they should be very much attracted to each other.

"I don't need an out, Vegeta." She got on her tip-toes and placed a somewhat chaste kiss on the back of his neck. "I _want_ to be with _you_."

He turned towards her, drawing her into his arms as he resumed his attack on her lips. The door swung open as he walked them into the room, kicked the door shut gently, and threw caution to the wind.

* * *

**A/N: YAY! Another chapter churned out ;) Hope you all enjoy this! It was definitely fun to write, although the last bit kind of baffled me. I wasn't sure how to smoothly transition to the event that ties them together. **

**Anywho, thanks for all the reviews! That kind of support kept me motivated. Here's to hoping the next chapter comes out just as quickly!**


	15. I Can

**Chapter Fifteen: I Can**

* * *

Of three things, Bulma was fairly certain:

One, fate had dealt her a particularly funny card. And this isn't the "funny-haha" type of funny, but the "funny-SUFFER!" type of funny. Not peculiar. Just…bitter in taste.

Two, that she had done something obscenely wrong in a past life to warrant this sort of coddling by her mother and rage from her father. Not that she was the object of his rage; that particular person happened to be in orbit, somewhere in space, for the past three months.

Three, she was absolutely, one-hundred percent, without a reasonable doubt sure that something bad was about to happen. Call it superstitious, but the ominous feeling in her gut wouldn't go away. Naturally she had chucked it up to the fact that the strongest person she knew (outside of Goku) was hundreds of light-years away, leaving her alone and defenseless in the cold, lonely world of droll reports and scathing blueprints.

With a mildly defeated sigh, she heaved the massive five-inch binder off of her lap, stretching out her aching legs and lower back. She stuck her tongue out at the offending black notebook, wishing that it would either combust into a massive pile of ash or grow legs and walk itself back to her father. At the moment, and for the past month, she had no interest in spending more than ten minutes with the brooding old man. Still, she loved him, and understood his misplaced rage, but couldn't help shuddering as his threat lingered and reverberated in her head. She had never seen him so angry before in her life…

"_That—that __**man**__ isn't welcome back in this house, or anywhere on this compound! So help me I'll—I mean it, Bulma!"_

The blue-haired scientist scratched the back of her head, blowing out a breath that had somehow ended up stowed away within her slowly crushed lungs. The 'man'—Vegeta—had no idea what he was about to walk into once his ship auto piloted on its nearly empty tank back to Earth. As a matter of fact, he had no idea what was going on now, and, she lamented mentally, had been out of radio contact for the duration of his training. The only way they knew he was doing well was through the droid reports relaying the status of the ship and its equipment back to her computer. In his defense, he had reminded her that he wanted no interruptions unless it was a life-or-death situation for the planet. In hindsight, he did need a warning considering it was about to turn in to a life-or-death situation, but she supposed he was a big boy and could easily iron things out once he returned. If he decided to return…

"Bulma, honey, you shouldn't be working so hard! You need plenty of rest and relaxation."

"I know mom," she replied, getting up to stretch better, "but I'd really rather stay busy. Besides, I don't want dad to think of me as a burden now."

Bunnie fluffed her blonde curls in the mirror above the mantel as she waved off her daughter. "Oh _puh shaw_, dearest! Your father is only looking out after you. He doesn't think of you as a burden…"

"I think _this_ is about to be a burden, mom," she ground out, motioning towards her slightly swollen belly. "It's a little hard to be acting VP when you're carrying the child of your one-night-stand roommate."

"Don't be ridiculous, love. I'm sure Vegeta will put a ring on that finger of yours and settle this for your father."

Bulma restrained herself from rolling her eyes at her mother's rambling. Vegeta, marry _her_? Despite the rather tender night they had spent together, she highly doubted that the still-highly volatile and twisted soldier would want to settle for a life on Earth. He was still carrying the chip on his shoulder like a bright war-flag. And what sort of father would he be? Would he even want to be one? She absently rubbed her belly, feeling herself grow more and more attached to the growing life within her.

"I highly doubt Vegeta to be the marrying type. I don't think he's even had a serious relationship with anyone."

"Bulma, every man is the marrying type! He's just so bored and _frustrated_. Now that he's finally found what he's looking for, I doubt he'll be able to keep his paws off of you."

"MOOOOM!" She whined, feeling her cheeks heat at the suggestive eye-waggle Bunnie sent her way. If anything, Vegeta had finally gotten rid of his so-called _frustration_ and is finally able to concentrate on his one major task: training.

"Let's go shopping," her mother suggested, possibly forgetting the embarrassing scenarios she had flung into the face of her daughter. Bulma thanked Kami above for her momentary reprieve.

* * *

Twenty minutes in to their shopping trip, Bulma wished fervently that the linoleum tiles of the store would crack, open up, and allow the sure-to-be-hungry Earth to swallow her whole. Dodging behind a particularly lovely rack of clothing, she tried desperately to get her mom's attention without drawing anyone else's roving eye.

Being the center of the media's world was the last thing Bulma wanted for her already public life. Sadly, being the un-wed daughter of the Capsule Corp founder would not bode well for their company, as most of the investors' beliefs were as ancient as their wealth. Her father had wagged an aging, wrinkly finger at her, reminding her of her duty to the family and the corporation as a whole. She felt her heart sink at the fact that she would have to hide something as joyous as a child away from the media to avoid so-called "bad publicity". It was annoying, stupid, and all-in-all ridiculous.

"Mom," she whispered furiously, eyeing a salt and peppered brunette that was across the aisle. "MOM." Bunnie was either pointedly ignoring her or going instantaneously deaf. Bulma would rather believe the latter of the two, but knowing her mother, she could be just caught up so much in her own little world that everything else was negligible. What a horrid time to be true to character.

Bulma sighed for what seemed like the millionth time this past year. She was almost ready to pop out of her hiding place behind the baby winter weather clothes when she felt a shadow loom a bit over her. Whirling around, she half expected to see the crazy hag that she had been avoiding standing behind her. Instead, she was staring in to a perfectly surprised set of coffee-colored eyes.

"Bulma?"

"Chichi!" The two embraced, exclaiming how long I had been since they actually had talked.

"What've you been up to?"

The brunette smiled softly, patting her hair out of habit. "Oh, the usual. Cleaning, cooking, making sure Gohan studies. Goku and Piccolo keep trying to lure him out to train, but I'm not about to let my baby's mind rot for absolutely no reason."

Bulma grinned, mentally picturing Chichi chasing Goku out of the house after having snuck Gohan off for a bit of sparring. "I can only imagine. But Goku wouldn't be Goku if he didn't at least try to pass on his inherit knowledge to his son."

"True, but that doesn't mean I'm going to make it easy." They shared a soft laugh, moving further into the baby section. "What about you? I haven't talked to you since your accident in the GR."

"Yeah," she replied, absently picking at a fuzz ball on her sweater. "About that…"

* * *

The trails of sweat that poured down his body comforted his sore, screaming muscles as they 'plip-plopped' to the steely floor. Vegeta was secretly grateful for the air conditioning that the woman had thoughtfully installed in the decently-sized ship, but part of him wished it had as much power as it had earlier. The quicker the fuel burned, the less luxuries were available.

He guzzled down the now-room temperature water from a grossly oversized bottle, glancing over the computer readouts again. Amazingly enough, his three month excursion had gone on without any major trouble; within two days time he would find himself enter Earth's atmosphere once again. Unfortunately, he had not ascended, and with that thought he crushed the bottle in his hand, disintegrating the plastic into powder. Although useful and seemingly beneficial, his training had not yielded the exact results he had hoped for. Perhaps he would have to train in space again at a later date.

He allowed his mind to wander absently over to the "what ifs" of his return to—the prince begrudgingly admitted—home as he rummaged for food. The night spent with the woman had been relaxing…relieving, almost. Vegeta had boarded the ship with a clear mind and a surge of determination that he thought useless to try to reign back in. How wrong he was thinking that giving in to his carnal nature would slow him down. Sure, it was probably a risky thing to do; Bulma was not the most stable creature to bed (but then again, neither was he), nor was she one to simply let something go. He hoped against hope that she had not grown attached to him, and yet a teeny, tiny sliver of him said that it wouldn't be the worse-case scenario. Despite the fact that their evolving relationship had brought a torrent of emotions, he couldn't help but feel like she was _meant_ to be in his life—however weak and pathetic that sounded.

Vegeta shrugged, deciding that he was better off not thinking about it until he could gauge the woman's reaction. Surely she would've gotten over the initial post-sex gushy feelings and on to the more rational, scientific side that her mind could easily relate to. Then again, she was quite contrary to nature…

Grasping at an MRE-esque packet he desired, he tore into it, relishing the taste of it, even if it wasn't quite the same flavor as Bunnie's cooking. There was no useless chatter from his big-eyed roommate, or idea-pitches from the old man. It was, well, boring. He gnawed on a big biscuit, glancing wearily around the domed capsule.

Yeah, Earth was looking a little more desirable right about now.

* * *

"You're WHAT?" Chichi nearly shrieked, calming herself as she cast a weary glance towards the last known whereabouts of one of the more important investors in Capsule Corp. The brunette had traveled towards the shoe department long ago, but both women were still on alert.

"Yeah," Bulma shifted to her other leg uncomfortably, rubbing a soothing hand on her tiny belly. "It's kind of crazy, isn't it?"

"I'll say it is," the brown-eyed banshee responded, "considering who the father is. Honestly Bulma, for as smart as you are, didn't you think of any contraceptive options?"

"Believe me, I was too caught up in the moment." A furious blush graced her cheeks.

Chichi smirked, fixing the blue-haired scientist with a knowing gaze. "To sleep with a monster like that. If I didn't know you, I'd think you were out of your mind."

Bulma let out a snort.

"Actually, I do know you. You _are_ out of your mind. Does he know?"

"That I'm out of my mind? Yes."

"You know what I mean!"

The slightly older woman sighed, watching her mother chuck another set of baby clothes into the shopping cart. "No. He's been incommunicado since he left. He should be home in a couple of days. The ship doesn't have enough food to sustain him any longer."

"Do you think…that he might be upset once he finds out?"

"I don't know." She bit her lip. "Obviously this wasn't planned and I'm not too sure how he'd feel about this."

"Maybe I should send Goku over, just in case he gets more than a little pissed off."

Bulma felt shock course through her at Chichi's slip of a curse word. She shook it off, however, after imagining a very irate Vegeta catching wind of Goku hanging around the compound without prior warning. "No, I think that'll just make matters worse. Knowing Vegeta, he'd take it as an invitation to battle. Don't worry, I can handle this."

"Well, if you say so. I'm here for you if you need me, you know that."

She smiled. "Thanks Chi, I appreciate it."

The slightly taller woman returned the smile. "Anytime. Well, I'd better get going. Kami knows that that green monster has convinced Goku to take Gohan away from his studies. I'll catch you later. Call me?"

"Absolutely! Tell everyone I said hi."

The two embraced one last time, Bulma feeling a bit less anxious about her immediate future. She watched as Chichi stalked off, her bag clutched in one hand as her phone snapped up to her face in the other. She felt a hint of a smile flit across her face as the sounds of her nagging Goku faded the further she walked away.

"Aww, it was so nice to see little Chichi again!" Bunnie grinned at her daughter, tucking away the capsule of her recently purchased goodies in her purse.

Bulma nodded, swearing to herself that she would be more in touch with her friends in the future.

* * *

At the slight tremor that interrupted her sleep, she sat up straight, looking around her room, nerves slightly jarred. Bulma had been dreaming of absolutely nothing—her sleep had been blissfully deep for the first time in weeks. Grouchy and ready to strangle something, she grabbed her robe and slid it on, taking time to stretch a bit before she made a beeline for the balcony doors. They swung open easily, allowing the cold, frozen air to hit her body with such force that it caused her breath to escape her as though she had been punched. She shrunk deeper into the fluffy, dark blue robe, letting her still sleepy, unfocused eyes graze the compound. Her mind absently wondered if one of the lab techs had set something on fire since smoke was billowing off to the side.

It was shiny, she realized with a start.

And round.

But there was no fire.

Her heart stuttered and she pressed her hand against it to keep it from bursting out of her chest. There, in the beautifully snow-covered lawn, was the black and white, steel-domed spaceship that she had sent Vegeta off in. The lights were still on inside of the chamber, signifying that he hadn't left yet…

She whirled around, bending awkwardly once she entered the room to slip on her snow boots and shed her robe in favor of her jacket. There was no way she was willing to question the various emotions that flooded her head…instead she chose to just roll with it as she ran as fast as she could out of the house and towards the capsule. She felt her lungs burn in the cold, dry environment, but she didn't pay much mind. Her eyes focused on the door that had slowly opened and slid a ramp from the doorway to the ground as she neared.

Out Vegeta stepped, shirtless, though mildly protected by the various self-treated bandages that covered large areas of his upper-body. Bulma held back her gasp, grateful that he was at least able to walk down the ramp in one piece. His gait was smooth and steady, proving to her that he was at least healthy enough to put up the front that he was fine.

The Prince smirked as he caught the woman staring at him, planted a few feet away from the bottom of the ramp. She looked a bit worried, but the small smile that was ever-present practically lit up the entire yard. He allowed his eyes to study her from head to toe, noting that there was something different about her that he just couldn't place, but overall she seemed healthy and—begrudgingly admitted—as gorgeous as ever. Even her shiny blue hair appeared to be even longer and softer than he had last seen.

He stopped a few inches away from her, practically feeling her lavender scent envelop him and wash away his fatigue. "Woman," he stated, giving her a slight nod as his smirk deepened.

Bulma felt her eyes widen even more as she took in his entire form. He had always been an inch or two taller than she was, but now he appeared to tower about four or five inches over her. His bulky muscles were a little more compact, smoothed down to make him appear harmless, though she knew better. His presence just screamed 'power' and his spicy scent invaded her senses. Finally, he was home. And she was now happy.

"Vegeta," she bounced on her tip-toes, desperate to reach out and touch him but refrained from doing so. "Welcome home."

"Home," his voice rumbled a bit, nearly making her want to throw her arms around him. "I don't suppose you're in the mood to fetch me some food," he said, noticing the yawn she failed to stifle.

"I can heat up some leftovers."

He shrugged, following her into the compound. His initial instinct had been to heft her up in his arms and bury his nose in her hair but he had shot down that notion as quickly as it had entered the rebellious thought processes of his mind. Evil, betraying mind…

"How was your training?" the woman asked casually, dumping a few glass containers filled with food in the microwave.

"It served its purpose."

Bulma felt herself frown a bit in response. That was it? She knew she shouldn't have expected more from her housemate, but it still was a bit annoying. "Oh?"

"I have not ascended, if that was your actual question."

"I'm sorry," she answered. He sensed her sincerity.

Another shrug. "I am close. I can feel it brimming at the edges of my ki." His eyes swept over what he could see of the house. "Nothing has appeared to change here."

The woman leaning against the counter offered her own shrug as she glanced around. "Outside of mom's new garden, everything is pretty much the same."

"Pretty much?" He let his gaze linger on her, noting that aside from unzipping her jacket in the warm house, she looked quite uncomfortable. "What's the matter with you?"

"Me?" she squeaked, suddenly looking nervous. The Saiya-jin could feel his brow furrow in confusion. His loud-mouthed hostess had never been outright nervous around him for no reason.

"You're acting stranger than usual."

Bulma sniffed in response, planting her hands on her hips. The tiny action had caught the Prince's attention, as it had moved the very bulky jacket away from her body to rest behind her hips. Just as she opened her lips to tell him that she was just fine, he quickly interrupted her.

"You've gained weight."

Now she felt herself bristle in response, her eyes darkening in mild indignation. "If I've gained weight, it's all **your** fault!"

"Mine?" He snorted, now looking bored with the entire conversation. The 'ding' of the microwave went unnoticed by the two occupants of the kitchen. "Since I've been off of this miserable excuse for a moon for three months, I highly doubt that I could've contributed to your downfall from fitness. Had I been here, you can bet your pea-sized intellect that I would've whipped you right back into shape."

Bulma sputtered, refusing to acknowledge his sexual innuendo and instead strode directly up to his seated form, poking him in the chest with a finely manicured nail. She ignored his wince as her nail grazed a rather nasty wound that was still fresh. "You insensitive bastard!" She spat, watching a triumphant smirk work its way across his face. The woman knew she was taking the bait, but dammit if he didn't deserve to get an even greater serve thrown right back at him.

"I'm pregnant!"

* * *

**A/N: : ) Man am I on a roll or what? Sorry for not delving more into Vegeta's training, but we all know what he had been doing up there, really. And I don't think Vegeta went Super in the future timeline, but I can't remember. I haven't decided if he will or not in this fic... : )**

**Oh, and I borrowed that "three things" at the beginning of the chapter from Twilight. Yeah, yeah, don't judge! I thought it was pretty funny : D**

**Has anyone else had problems with the site loading as of late? I've been trying to upload this chapter since last night but it keeps giving me an error. Sad day. But anywho, review!**


	16. For Me

**Chapter Sixteen: For Me**

* * *

The dark-haired man blinked, and then blinked again. He was nearly tempted to ask her to repeat herself but steadfastly decided against it. The seething, dark, burning fire in her suddenly very blue eyes made him both slightly unnerved and highly aroused. Damn hormones. But the hormones were soon overpowered by the shock that lit his system. He racked his brain for any trace of knowledge of ever intentionally getting the woman pregnant. There was none, but he soon came to terms with the fact that he had been so carried away with her that he had never once cast a thought to the repercussions of bedding her (outside of the emotional).

Dammit all.

When his thoughts recollected themselves, he found himself staring intently at the very tiny belly that was weakly protected by Bulma's arm. Vegeta felt himself snort at the irony—days ago, he had been worried about any attachments that he would possibly be forming with the woman. He couldn't get much more attached than this. He let a sigh pass through his lips as he gingerly placed the palm of his left hand flat against the woman's belly, her eyes now betraying her current confusion and shock.

"What have we gotten ourselves in to?" He wondered aloud, slowly, softly rubbing little circles in a soothing ministration.

Bulma smiled softly, stepping a bit closer to the Prince. "I—I guess 'parenthood' would be the proper term."

He chuckled, much too tired to get mad or throw a fit of any sort. His body ached, he could feel blood oozing out of a few very fresh and rather deep gashes, and he couldn't remember the last time he had taken a nice, long, hot shower. "Seems so," he mumbled, "What an odd pair the brat has chosen."

"You're not mad?" She peered at him from under her bangs, both arms now wrapped around her middle.

"No. No, I'm not mad. You didn't do this to me on purpose or trick me in to romping around your room with you. Neither one of us really paid much mind to the possible consequences of our actions. I'm not excited, either, so don't think I'm about to be the ideal, dreamy father."

They scowled at each other, shooting dark glares before he finally gave in and looked away.

"I wasn't meant to be a father. My best role model was Nappa…and, well, you saw him."

"I know; I don't expect you to be the world's greatest dad, Vegeta. Honestly, I didn't want a kid right now and since Yamcha and I broke up I never thought I'd have a family of my own at this point in my life. All I want now, though," she said, chancing a moment to put her hand over his, "is for you to say that you'll at least be there. I want my baby to have a father. Besides, who else could teach him about his very complicated, very royal heritage?"

She smirked down at him and he found himself returning it. Her request was nothing difficult yet very costly, he realized, as he gazed back down at her waist. To say that he would stick around and help raise the child within her womb meant that after his imminent battle with Kakarot, he would be stuck on the backwater planet until the day he died. He would never be able to go rule the universe, though the thought became less and less appealing. Earth had, unfortunately, became associated with the word 'home', a thought that was both foreign and dangerous. In all his years under Frieza's servitude, he had never once referred to anything outside of his people's planet as home. Now he would be tied down to this planet, its insane inhabitants, his human woman, and half-breed brat.

It wasn't the ideal package, but it wasn't horrible either.

Favoring his left side, he used his other arm to draw her closer, leaning his forehead against his hand. "Bulma, I will be on this planet for as long as you need me. Just…don't expect perfection or anything near it."

"Of course not," she replied, brushing a hand through his hair. "Thank you."

"Hn," was all he offered, his stomach rumbling through the very peaceful kitchen.

"Oh! Your food! Right!" Much to his chagrin, she pulled away, hurrying to the microwave to retrieve the food and set it in front of him. Despite the still rather shocking news of her pregnancy (because he was pretty damn sure he wouldn't come entirely to term with it until the child was about five years old), he longed for the normalcy he was used to. Solitude in space, although beneficial to his training, made him realize just how his life had been shaped by the Briefs' and their dull, human lives. Sure, nothing had really changed here—and Bulma was tending to his every whim at the moment—but _he_ felt as though he had changed. He wanted to scoop the blue-haired wonder up in his arms and hold her until they both had to be pried from each other.

Vegeta shoveled his food into his mouth, feeling his cheeks burn a bit with mild embarrassment as his thoughts continued to churn in his mind. Never before had he simply wanted to just be someone for the sake of having company. Nappa and Radditz, although the last of his race, were loyal subjects to the end, but not much more than that. He had been alone for the majority of his life and figured that was the way it would be until Frieza had finally been killed. That this tiny woman dozing in the chair next to him could have such an impact on his persona in a little less than two years was not only shocking but laughably true to character. He shook his head slightly, grasping the tall jug of water to chug it.

Bulma stirred as the clang of silverware hitting glass ceased. The very weary looking man next to her rubbed his side gently before reaching over to brush her bangs away from her eyes. "You should be in bed."

"So should you," she stated, glancing at the somewhat fresh bandages around his torso. "But we need to treat whatever injuries you have before we finally pass out."

He waved her off, gingerly standing up to deposit his dishes in the sink. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"No it can't! I don't need an ailing, whining Saiya-jin to slump around here because of infection."

"It's not going to get infected," he growled, whirling around in time to see her stand somewhat imposingly in front of him. Her tiny fists were placed on her hips again. He tried not to smirk as her usual banshee look was lessened by her pregnancy.

"You're bleeding," she ground out, casting a worried glance to his right side before glancing at the left. There wasn't any spotting on that side, despite the fact that he had seemed to protect it the most. He favored that entire side, she noted, and wondered briefly if those wounds had already dried up and healed.

"Fine," he stated, closing the gap between them. She nearly took a step back before changing her mind and standing her ground. He merely wrapped an arm around her, noticing that she had changed her shampoo as he took the time to bury his nose in her hair. The smell of strawberries had been replaced with a different mixture of fruit. He snorted at the revelation. Of all things for these humans to want to smell like, they picked fruit. "I will go tend to my wounds with cleaner dressings. You go to bed."

Instead of just being a saint and listening to him (she was a devil woman), she poked his ribs, causing him to reel back a step. The pain that had shot up his side was furious, annoying, leaving a dull ache in its wake that only sharpened with each breath he took. Bulma's eyes were wide with fear—and anger?—as his hand instantly applied a bit of pressure to the side to relieve the pain. Her hand shot up to her mouth as she placed the free one on top of his. "I'm so sorry!" she lamented, gently throwing her arms around him. He held back a hiss as his body reminded him of the various cuts, scrapes, bruises, and gashes it sported. Treacherous body. "But this is all the more reason for you to just listen to me and let me help treat you. Or maybe get you a senzu bean?"

Vegeta sighed, much too tired to keep putting up a fight against Bulma. As much as he missed the verbal spars, he really was sore and tired. "Alright," he nodded, wrapping his free arm around her. They began to walk towards the living room, Vegeta mentally bemoaning the fact that he had to rely on those damn mystical beans to help heal him. Before they could make it to the stairs to descend to the woman's private, underground labs, the old man and his insane wife blocked the path, the geezer's finger pointing accusingly at the Prince. He rolled his eyes, now knowing where the blue-eyed woman in his arms had gotten it from.

"_You_," Dr. Briefs hissed, his usually friendly disposition long gone. "What did I say Bulma? He shouldn't be here!"

"Dad!" She exclaimed, shrugging out of Vegeta's grasp to stand in front of him. "It's fine. He and I have already talked it over." She waved her arms in front of her, almost as if to ward of the old people.

"Talked _what_ over? The fact that he knocked you up, isn't married to you, and has the freedom to run off with whatever whore walks by?"

The Saiya-jin turned the word 'married' over in his mind a few times before glaring at the head of the household. He had never really had any problems with the human before and hadn't ever seen him this pissed off. It was a wee bit unnerving and made his head throb to a more pronounced rhythm. He stifled the growl that was moments away from escaping his throat.

"I'm not some hormonal, pubescent boy, old fart. I've made my bed and am going to lay in it. How dare you assume I would shirk my responsibilities."

Dr. Briefs blinked a few times before scratching the back of his head. "You have to understand my position as Bulma's father, Vegeta. I have to know if the guy that's the father of her child is willing to take care of them. It's nothing personal against you—but she's _my_ baby, and I'm not about to let some Don Juan wine and dine her."

The literary phrase was a bit lost on the alien, but he understood the gist of it. "Didn't I just say that I am not about to turn my back on my responsibility to the woman?" The room was starting to swirl a bit the longer they stood there, making him more agitated and drained. The sooner he could convince the old fart that he would keep his word, the sooner he could tend to his wounds and go to sleep.

"I suppose so," the doctor relented, glancing at his wife momentarily before turning to his daughter. "Is this what you want, sweetheart?"

"I can't imagine my life with anyone else," she replied, surprised when Vegeta grasped her shoulder. What she thought to be moral support from him was actually his attempt to stay upright and keep the room still. Okay, so it was also a bit of moral support since the wall was close enough to brace him…but that was negligible at the moment.

"As your father, I think I'm still entitled to have some terms in order for him to remain under this roof."

Bulma tried not to roll her eyes. She could feel her housemate's grasp tighten a fraction as he swayed a bit behind her. The anxious feeling in her gut got a little worse as she placed her hand on top of his. "Can you make it fast, dad? Vegeta really needs to get to the med bay."

Dr. Briefs glanced around his daughter, now noticing the growing puddle of red at the warrior's feet. He felt worry flood him and was tempted to let them go before he peered into Vegeta's eyes; the man fixed him with a look that stilled him. He guessed that Bulma hadn't realized that the alien prince was bleeding out all over the floor, and the stoic man didn't seem to be in any hurry to let her know how bad off he was getting. However, it was time to get to the point. "The two of you need to get married."

Bunnie's cries of joy were drowned out by Bulma's mild protest. "No offense to Vegeta, but dad, honestly? I'm not going to make him marry me just because I got pregnant."

"We'll do it," Vegeta ground out. The pain was getting to annoying and the room as starting to spin a little faster.

The woman spun around, eyes wide and shining with tears that she wouldn't let shed. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," he mumbled, now bracing himself against the wall. "It's no big deal."

"You know its forever."

"Fine," he relented, figuring he would be stuck forever in this house, with or without the whole 'married' deal. Time was a matter of opinion and he didn't really think making their relationship official in the human world would be of much consequence to anyone outside of their immediate acquaintances. But if it pacified the old man (and didn't result in the confiscation of the GR), then he would do it just to get everyone to shut up.

"Alright, so it's settled. We can iron out the minor details later," the graying man said, taking a drag off of the newly lit cigarette. He followed the couple as they descended down the stairs, feeling his wife grasp his hand in hers. He took a moment to look into her very pleased eyes, watching as she grinned cheekily at him. Dr. Briefs nearly commented on how lovely she looked and how happy he was that their growing family was coming together nicely, when the sound of a large explosion cut through the quiet, sleepy capsule. The stairs shook, sending them flying forward a bit until they hit what felt like a wall. A somewhat soft, warm, yet solid wall.

Vegeta glared up at the door they had just passed through, grasping Bulma to his left with one arm, the batty woman against his chest (and she was already holding on for dear life), and finally the doctor to his right with his free arm. Whatever had caused the ruckus was sure to be somewhere on the property, since the ground was still quaking with the aftershocks. He gathered the three humans closer to him, telling them to hold on as he dashed down the rest of the stairs.

Wind swept through Bulma' hair, whipping him in the face and pricking his eyes. He tried to ignore it, but it was becoming difficult to avoid with his hands full. He finally turned sharply to the right, scattering a few blueprints as he skid to a halt directly in front of Bulma's desk. He set the trio down, glancing around a few times to assess just how safe they would be hiding out in the room. Seeing no windows or doors the led anywhere in particular (besides the closet he had rummaged through on several different occasions), he spun on his heel, ready to investigate the compound.

"Just where do you think you're going?"

He paused, turning to face his _mate_, her arms now crossed in front of her bosom in an all-too-familiar gesture. "I am going to go see what all the noise is about. Obviously it's a much more sound decision than waiting for whom or whatever it is to come in here and bother us."

An elegant blue eyebrow shot up. "You're not going anywhere until I try to treat those wounds."

The Prince felt himself began to seethe. "In a few minutes, I highly doubt it will matter."

"Quit bitching and at least let me wrap some fresh dressings on there so you don't die from blood loss!"

"Then _shut up_ and hurry up so I can go!"

Bulma stomped over to him, seemingly pulling a roll of gauze out of thin air. He chose not to question it; his sanity usually remained in tact when he just went along with whatever crazy, out of the ordinary scheme she came up with.

The woman was quick and methodical, tightening the wrappings up just a bit to support his cracked ribs and staunch the bleeding from the bigger wounds. He wondered just how often she had been forced to tend to Kakarot and his merry team of warriors. Part of him, he realized, actually didn't want to know. The fact that his woman had to lay hands on the low class dolt was enough to send him in to a fit. He took a deep, calming breath, exhaling it as she taped off the end of the dressing.

"Ah," she took a step back, "you're all set." Her eyes became a little glassy as she stared intently into his deep, dark ones. "Be safe, okay?"

He offered a small nod, suddenly wishing that one of the happy-go-lucky human warriors was at least here to offer them some protection. Hell, even Scarface would come in handy right about now. "Lay low, stay out of sight. If anyone comes down here, bury yourselves in that closet, and for the love of all things sacred, keep your mouth shut."

Bulma let out a nervous laugh, leaning up to place a tiny kiss on his nose. He refrained from sputtering, instead choosing to turn on his heel and leave the room, locking the door behind him.

All he wanted was to go to bed. Damn disturbances, damn explosions. Earth couldn't exist without a bit of a fuss.

* * *

**A/N: Ruh roh! What's gonna happen next? Evil cliffhanger, I know. Review!**


	17. To Me

**Chapter Seventeen: To Me**

* * *

Bulma felt her heart sink as the father of her baby entered the codes in the panel to lock the door. The extra safety precautions, although endearing, rendered her a little breathless. Could it be that he sensed something supremely powerful out there? Or was he just playing it safe? Thoughts continued to swirl in her already over-processing mind as her mother began to dust off a few of the shelves that decorated her room.

"Cleaning at a time like this?" She asked aloud, glancing at her father as her mother shrugged.

"Oh, you know you never clean much around here, dearest!"

"I hardly think this is the tim—"

In a rare moment of sanity, Bunnie paused, a worried look crossing her features. "I just need something to occupy my mind." Oh, right. The youngest of the three felt shame flood her. It had never really occurred to her that, outside of Vegeta, her parents had never really encountered any of the hostile enemies that had plagued the planet. They were usually blissfully unaware in the confines of Capsule Corp, cooking, cleaning, studying, reading…she took for granted the wonderful ignorance that came with being your average, everyday, run-of-the-mill human. She realized, surprisingly, that despite her ki being next to nothing and her martial arts skills being excellent among the inhabitants of this planet, _she_ was part of the clan of warriors the protected their home. Sure, Bulma excelled in the more technical and strategic aspects of fighting, and posed little to no threat physically against their opponents, but she had always been on the battlefront. She knew about every crazy crisis that had threatened Earth since she had been born. Her parents only heard of the aftermath of the battles—Namek's explosion, Nappa and Vegeta destroying a few cities, the destruction of the Red Ribbon Army—but had never really experienced them first hand.

She watched as her mother continued dusting, feeling a new surge of confidence fill her. They hadn't lost a battle yet. Hell, what was to say this was even going to end up in a battle? Things exploded around the compound all the time (usually by Vegeta, but that was just coincidence). There was still the possibility that a novice lab tech had caused something to combust in the main labs. Yeah, that was definitely something they were used to.

Still, she bit absently at her lip, trying to clear her mind by working out some sort of glitch she found in a computer she had acquired through King Cold's ship. Hopefully she could crack the problem and open up the database to learn more about intergalactic life. Or just keep her from freaking out.

* * *

Vegeta glared across the yard of the compound. The snow was much deeper than when he had left and had escaped his notice when he returned. Now it was up to his knees and soaking the unprotect sweats he wore. He wondered if maybe Zarbon had somehow managed to resurrect again; nothing would bring him greater pleasure than ripping the effeminate bastard apart and blowing him into dust again. Then again, that would call into question the lizard's means of coming back to life. The dragon balls hadn't been used…the sky was naturally dark, but clear as glass. The one time he had actually seen the dragon summoned in person was forever impressed on his mind.

No, the dragon balls were still scattered over the earth.

Then what? He could see the smoldering remnants of the explosion, but could neither feel, see, nor hear a soul with enough power to cause that damage for miles. The Prince felt his scowl deepen as he tread deeper through the snow. Whoever it was had better damn well show their face so he could get rid of the itch to fight and pass out for a solid day. Maybe even pick a spat or two with the woman, though her hormones might give her more of a biting edge. He could practically feel the phantom of his tail swish back and forth in eager anticipation. Part of him deflated at the thought of his long-absent tail. How we wished he could find the coward that had chopped it off. Damn fool.

Frustrated, he turned on his heel, chalking up the explosion to some fool science nerd that had probably tried out some ridiculous experiment and had gone and blown themselves up. Serves them right for doing so in the middle of the night…

Or so he thought as the remnants of his hypothesis gave way to total darkness.

* * *

Dr. Briefs, now sitting comfortably in the middle of the floor, rubbed his chin as he looked over an old training droid that he had given to Vegeta. No surprise that it was broken and practically mangled into an unrecognizable heap of metal, but it still had a chance to be repaired. He leaned against his daughter's desk, a bit of worry flooding his senses as he thought of the brooding Saiya-jin. He knew he could count on the young man to keep his word, but the fact that he was not back after a fifteen minute hiatus…well, it was a bit unsettling. There were no other explosions or sounds that they could hear, and part of him wondered if he was okay.

He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Bulma's hunched shoulders sagged slightly as she growled. Her hand shoved a massive set of blueprints to the side, causing them to flutter to the floor in a slightly wrinkled heap. A shadow of a smile crossed his face as he recognized her frustration. "No luck, sweetheart?"

"No. Damn thing is too foreign to me. Here I had prided myself on my up-to-date know-how and being miles ahead of the competition…but these barbarians have got me beat." She scowled, tapping her pencil against her temple lightly.

"Maybe Vegeta would know something about it," her mother offered, now busily sweeping the dusty floors.

The elder Briefs felt his smile widen. Of course! They had chunks of the Colds' spaceship all over the lab; surely spending the better portion of his childhood and adulthood exposed to that technology would've rubbed off on him. "That's not a bad idea. You should ask him, when he's not training of course."

Bulma nodded, reaching over to pick the discarded prints up. "I can't believe I hadn't thought of that. It makes sense. I should've known—" Her words were drowned out by the sound of another explosion, the tremor shaking the shelves and causing the human occupants to dive under whatever stable surfaces they could find. "What the HELL was that?" she shrieked, covering her head with her hands as another boom echoed out.

Her father frowned, glancing at the ceiling with a concentrated look. At least it seemed like Vegeta was doing well, although the outcome of the battle would be up in the air until the victor reached their hiding spot.

* * *

Vegeta growled furiously at the armor-wearing fiend in front of him. Golden eyes glowed brightly back at him, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. His scowl deepened as the alien's smirk spread to reveal two rows of perfectly razor-sharp teeth. Of all the luck in the world…to come face-to-face with yet another of Frieza's generals. He was easy enough to beat, especially with his intensive training in space, but he couldn't help but feel a bit wary as to how the fool had been able to locate him in this quadrant of the universe.

"Commander," the being hissed, offering a slight bow and a salute. "How nice to see you alive and well. I've been searching long for you."

The Saiya-jin felt his left eyebrow quirk in response. "What for?" He rubbed at an eye absently, still recovering from the blinding technique he had been submitted to. Half tempted to blast the idiot to pieces, he decided to wait it out to see just what sort of information the being could possibly have.

"A few of the elite guard is trying to regroup and reestablish the Empire. Rumor has it that Lord Frieza's brother, Cooler, is still alive. He is to take the throne and continue to rule."

Vegeta let out a snort, waving off the general. "Cooler hasn't half the mind to rule as his idiot brother. The Empire is in shatters and won't be brought back. As it deserves to be."

The red-skinned beast growled, raising a fist at the Prince. "You forget that you are still subject to disciplinary actions by the Empire. Don't make me drag you back, _Prince_."

"You couldn't even if you possessed a fraction of the power that I do when I'm sleeping."

That was all the now-fuming being needed to hear as he launched a massive blast towards Vegeta, barely missing searing his side and soaring towards the house. The flame-haired man blipped out of sight, appearing a few feet away from the giant blast and flinging it towards the ground. The explosion was almost beautiful, a bright burst of green lighting the entire neighborhood and melting a good chunk of snow. The ex-mercenary frowned thoughtfully, realizing the woman would be beyond pissed at the sight of a muddy hole in their yard. Oh well. She'd get over it.

"Well, you seem to have something precious in the building. I wonder what."

"Don't be ridiculous," he laughed, glad that years under Frieza's service had made his face as impassive as a block of ice. "I don't fancy sleeping out in the snow."

Again the general smirked, licking his thin lips as he lifted his hand towards the domed building. "Now, now! I won't tolerate you lying to my face, commander. Her scent is all over you. And my, does she smell wonderful." The green ki swirled dangerously in front of his palm, making Vegeta itch to go and chop the bastard's hand off. His stomach flip-flopped lazily as he hovered above the ground, fighting stance already seizing his body.

"Me? Lie? Don't flatter yourself, Bani. I wouldn't waste my breath trying to convince you of anything."

Bani's golden eyes glinted dangerously in the obscenely bright light of his green ki. He frowned, bouncing the decent-sized ball of energy in his hand before lazily launching it towards the living quarters again.

Vegeta hissed as he flicked it away again, feeling it burn the back of his hand a lot more than the previous one had. Now thoroughly annoyed and tired, he powered up a bit, ready to be rid of the ass before he managed to blab his location to any other idiot loyalist of Frieza's. His own blue ki ticked impatiently in his hand, setting off the eerie glow of death he thought he had lost long ago. It almost felt nice to achieve that sense of power again, but at the same time a fluid peace fell over him. He wasn't a killing machine anymore; he was merely protecting his interests.

"Vegeta, don't be so hasty. You could be 2nd in command! Think of the power you'd have throughout the universe!"

Another snort escaped him. "Second in command? I am second to no one." The ball of energy grew slightly. "You've wasted enough of my time. Send my regards to that bastard Frieza when you get to hell." With that thought, he chucked the blast towards the red alien, keeping it in his line of sight as it impacted with the being. The explosion wasn't that large, but he knew it was enough to be rid of the soldier and let him go on his marry way to bed.

But as the smoke cleared, he felt his stomach drop. Bani stood, inches away from where the blast had impacted, armor now hanging by a few threads from his slender, muscular frame. His hands were on his hips, a sneer stretching from ear to ear as he was flanked by a dozen soldiers, some Vegeta recognized, others he didn't. The Prince crossed his own arms, gauging his odds. They looked decent, and the itch for battle was still swimming languidly in his mind, but being as wounded as he was would present some minor problems. Plus the fact that the idiot Bani knew of the weakness he sheltered in Capsule Corp…dammit all.

Growling, he touched back down on the ground, fighting stance-ready.

He sensed a long night ahead of him.

Sigh.

* * *

**A/N: Short chapter, yes. I've been applying for some part-time jobs though! Hopefully this will keep you all satiated until I finish up the next chapter : ) So close to happening! Ah, this fic is getting longer than I had originally anticipated. It's amost 100 pages...yikes! Anywho, review please!**


	18. Life

**Chapter Eighteen: Life**

* * *

Vegeta surveyed the carnage with a wary eye. Thankfully the landscape looked pretty much the same as it always had (minus the sad looking, nine-foot wide, four-foot deep crater he currently hovered over). The bleeding corpses of those who had dared challenged him littered the grounds of the compound. It looked like the Valentine's Day Massacre, really, and he would very likely have to go and vaporize each alien into oblivion before any of the humans saw the damage.

Bani's scowl had deepened progressively with each attack his men had let loose on the Prince. The Saiya-jin felt a feral grin stretch across his face; the itch for battle had been filled and all that he had left to savor was the death of the red-skinned, lizard freak in front of him. His grin was immediately replaced by a thin-lipped frown. The fact that Bani had escaped the first blast with only a few scratches was enough to send Vegeta into a fit. He wouldn't hold back nearly as much this time.

Tan ears pricked up at the sound of the last breath being exhaled by the latest victim; it was the last crony the golden-eyed bastard had, thankfully. His brown eyes slid back to stare into the shinier ones. "What a shame. You seem to have been deserted by your compatriots."

"Indeed. No matter, I will finish you off."

The flame-haired man waved him off. "You don't stand a chance against me. Why can't you get that through your damned hea—"

"Is everything okay here, Vegeta?"

The Prince restrained himself from turning to glare at the fool third class that stood slightly behind and to the right of him. What a _fine_ time he had picked to intervene. "Yes," he managed through grit teeth. "Go check on Bulma and her parents."

Goku frowned. The combined ki of the once-living soldiers had probably added up to about Piccolo's power, so individually they had been an easy kill. But Bani's ki felt weird, twisted…the Earth Saiya-jin felt his gut swirl nervously at the thought of leaving the obviously ailing Vegeta to deal with him. Thankfully, he was now close enough to step in if necessary, but experience reminded him that the Prince never liked any sort of unsolicited assistance. Hopefully his fool pride wouldn't get him killed.

"Alright," he relented, "if you're sur—"

"Go!" Vegeta ordered, his back stiffening as _worry_ flooded his senses. Worry from the clown? Pfft, it would serve no purpose here. Let him worry over the woman and old couple that were still huddled in the security of the underground labs.

Earth's strongest warrior nodded, placing two fingers to his forehead before he phased back out of sight.

Bani raised an eyebrow. What a technique! To acquire it…well, he would need to be rid of Vegeta first, obviously. The strange fighter was powerful, that much he could sense; how powerful, though, was the real question. Hmm.

Vegeta felt his eyes narrow of their own will. The general looked to be deep in thought, something that was never a good sign. Frieza did not hire men in his guard to think; they were killing machines. The scientists thought, of course, but only as far as the emperor would allow them. Thinking was dangerous among soldiers. Very, very dangerous.

* * *

Goku phased right in front of Bunnie, who had switched from sweeping to mopping, scaring the older woman as she wielded the mop like a weapon.

"Yikes!" He ducked, feeling water spray him as the threads came within inches of sweeping against his head.

"Son-kun!" Bulma exclaimed, bounding from her desk chair into his now-open arms. They embraced, the latter grateful that the big oaf had come just in the knick of time. Granted, his entrance was a bit of a surprise, and with that thought she swatted him. "That's for scaring mom!"

"Sorry," he offered, waving his hands in front of him in a sort of truce. "It's just quicker for me to get places like this." He let out a bit of a nervous laughed, used to being the center of attention, but never used to the intense glare Bulma could fix. "What's going on here anyway? Vegeta's seemed to fend of an entire army out there."

The blue-haired woman bit her bottom lip. An _army_? What army? Worry swelled up within her again, almost choking her with its intensity. All of those blasts… "Is he okay?"

"He looks a little worse for wear, but he's the same ole Vegeta."

"Well, that's a relief," her father exclaimed from his seat on a random bench.

"Yeah, I mean, I was going to offer to help, but he told me to come here instead." Seeing the glassy eyes of his oldest friend he paused. Just what was happening here? Chichi had made some off-hand comment a few days ago, but Goku was now a little upset that he hadn't really paid attention to what she said in reference to Bulma. Now that he was taking the time to look her over, she seemed…different. Despite her now worried demeanor, she looked like she was just _glowing_. He'd never seen such a thing radiate from her, although, now that he thought of it…

His eyes plunged to her lower-abdomen immediately. Ah ha! A grin took hold of his features. Of course! She looked just as Chichi had when she had been pregnant with Gohan. Goku placed a palm flat against Bulma's belly, startling the older woman from her thoughts. "Goku, what are you doing…?"

The wild-haired warrior closed his kind eyes, humming thoughtfully as he focused on the tiny being growing in the woman's womb. "Hmm, yep. The kid's a good mix of both of his parents." His brown eyes popped open. "Healthy to boot, too!"

Bulma felt a blush creep across her face. "I do what I can."

Goku let out a laugh. "I knew something different was going on here. I'm surprised you didn't call and let us know the good news!" A pout formed. "Thought I was your best friend!"

It was Bulma's turn to laugh. "Really, Goku. I told Chichi because I happened to bump into her at the mall. But honestly, do you think it would've been fair to tell everyone before Vegeta even knew?"

"I s'ppose not," he relented, his face hardening into a concentrated look.

"Is he…is he really okay?"

"Of course he is! I would still be looming out there if he wasn't, believe me. Matter of fact, he's charging up a pretty powerful blast right now…" Goku gulped. The magnitude of said attack was probably a bit on the overkill side, but gauging the last one Vegeta had used, it seemed necessary. The fact that the injured Prince was exhausting his repertoire and ki reserves to defeat some maniac imperialist was a bit unnerving, to say the least. But it would work, of that he was quite sure. He reached over, wrapping a strong, comforting arm around his best friend. She leaned against him heavily, enjoying the feel of warmth and consistency. Still, her mind wandered to the man she was very much attached to.

If he died out there…she'd resurrect him, just to choke slam him.

* * *

The entire yard was a glowing blue at this point. Vegeta grunted a bit with the exertion; if this blast didn't work, he might just _have to_ enlist Kakarot's help. As pathetic and useless he would feel in that moment, it would be better than letting Bani get the upper hand. Somehow, the thought of resurrecting a now-dead empire didn't feel appealing at all. He had no major desire to return to that life, no matter if it was free of Frieza or not. Earth, though annoyingly boring, full of idiot humans and pacifists that boasted of a united front, and over all pathetically _weak_, had given him a sort of liberation he had never felt before. It was exhilarating to be his own man—with no one to answer to (save the human woman he was so desperately keeping away from the general) or planets to purge, he felt _alive_ again. He was not about to take this second chance at life for granted.

Another grunt escaped him as Bani's power up flooded his senses. Damn fool. Part of him wished the alien would just give up and accept what fate most definitely had in store for him. Of course he wouldn't, but it was a nice thought to entertain as he strengthened his blast, condensing it into a sphere no bigger than a basketball.

Remembering Zarbon's last, mocking words, Vegeta was mildly grateful that Bani stood ever-silent at the other end of the yard. It was a tad comforting that they could just roll on with death.

Vegeta silently prayed that the blast would do the trick. He was so very much screwed if it didn't.

* * *

The kind Saiya-jin steadied Bulma as another blast rocked the compound. Various tools and random clatters of technological toys crashed against the once-clean floor. Bunnie and the good doctor had taken refuge under Bulma's sturdy desk again, grasping each other for dear life. Goku frowned thoughtfully.

Bani's ki had dropped significantly—had he just fired the blast? Vegeta's was concentrated still, thick, blue, filling Goku's mind as if he were standing right next to the Prince. That was a good sign. It meant Bani had either missed or Vegeta had deflected it. The third class felt hope flit across his heart for a minute. Sure, the red-skinned being wasn't a horrid threat to the planet, but could become one if he could still communicate with anyone else in the known universe. The last thing they needed was to draw un-due attention to Earth.

Suddenly, Vegeta's ki lessened, relieving Goku's senses momentarily before worry crept through. And just as quickly, Bani ceased to exist on this plane. A sigh escaped him, though it was soon covered by the gasps of the humans in the room as the aftershock rocked the capsule one, final time. As far as he could tell, the Prince was well.

A smile on his face, he let Bulma go as she peered curiously up at him. "It's over. He's fine."

Bulma was frozen for barely two seconds before she became animated, darting to the door, quickly entering the pass code, and rushing out of the room in a flurry of blue, black, and white. The elder Briefs stood up, dusting themselves off before trotting after their daughter, nervous glee escaping their pale lips.

Goku lit out after them, more worried about Bulma than the other two. She had to take it easy, that much he knew, but she was stubborn and would probably easily bowl him over in an attempt to make it to her hus—boyfr—Vegeta.

They reached him in record time, the group halting a few feet away from his kneeling form. He was hovering over what appeared to be the last body, mumbling something in a deep, smooth, mumbling voice. Goku instantly felt warmed, calmed, the words soothing him in a way he didn't think possible. Surprisingly, he had no real idea of what the last, appreciative speaker of the language was saying, but it was comforting to hear. It practically screamed 'kinsman', causing the tall man to feel an even stronger bond form between himself and the last of his kind.

Bulma broke out of the trance, padding towards her kneeling housemate carefully. He didn't look startled, just continued to say whatever it was he was saying as he glanced up at her. "Are you alright?" She murmured, eyes now scooting to the being in the snow. The man—boy really—looked surprisingly human. Were it not for the armor, she would've wondered if an innocent had fallen pray to a random, unearthly battle.

Vegeta merely nodded, still talking low in the language of his ancestors. He peered back down at the man, giving one final, curt nod before standing again. His knees popped in protest as his words tapered off. Feeling the others' eyes still on him, he crossed his arms over his chest, almost as if protecting himself from the biting wind. "He is a Saiya-jin," he stated. At his mate's gasp, he twitched, feeling her pitying hand rest against his elbow. He was half tempted to shrug it off, as pity was one thing he could not tolerate, but he stilled, glancing back down at the dying boy. The much paler Saiya-jin's mouth kept bobbing open and closed, wheezing for air.

The teen rattled something off. The Prince flinched as if he'd been slapped.

"Vegeta?" Bulma whispered, her arms now securely wrapped around his right bicep.

His eyes flicked to hers, taking in her cold, but whole, form. The woman seemed to be shivering, so he wrapped a warm, protective arm around her. She almost seemed to bury her upper body against his, her arms wrapping themselves around his torso. He winced, now very aware of the adrenaline wearing off and his body's pain returning. What a weird twist of events.

Again, the teen alien gasped something out, his fist balled over his heart as if saluting Vegeta.

"What is he saying?"

Almost ignoring her, he grabbed her right fist with his left, holding it against his heart, returning the salute that Bulma slowly recognized. Frieza's guard had used it, but the way the two native-born Saiya-jins exchanged it, it almost seemed more natural and ingrained. Perhaps the bastard lizard had stolen it from their people…

"Nothing of consequence," he finally answered, watching as a smile stretched across the face of the dying soldier.

"Behchetah sau," he grated out, eyes closing their last as he passed on to the next dimension.

Bulma peered back up into Vegeta's face. Aside from his slightly widened eyes, his face was blank. He raised his left hand, flicking it quickly over the length of the now-dead alien. A haze of blue settled over the body before it seemingly burst, leaving no evidence that he had ever existed, save for the imprint of where his head had rested in the snow. It saddened her, realizing that his passing wouldn't be mourned by anyone, really. She silently said a little bit of a prayer for him, glad that at least he wasn't suffering anymore.

"How sad," Bunnie whimpered, clutching her husband as close as she could. He merely patted her lower back, watching as Vegeta glared over at Goku.

"Why are you here?"

Goku scratched the back of his head as he stepped up to the couple. "I felt what was going on. I should've known better than to worry." He smiled kindly. "You had it under control."

Vegeta shifted his weight, causing Bulma to lean fully against him. He was so warm. She felt her eyes flutter shut. "Of course I did," the voice rumbled beneath her cheek. "You would've only gotten in the way if you had chosen to interfere."

"I guess it's a good thing that I didn't."

"Hmph." He glanced down at the woman. Her breathing had gotten deeper. Squashing the urge to smile like a schoolboy, he hefted her in his arms, somewhat relishing in the feel of her curling up against his chest. "Go home," he murmured, more than eager to go to bed and sleep well into the afternoon.

The taller Saiya-jin grinned, ignoring Vegeta's glare as he reached over to muss up Bulma's crazy-long hair. "Goodnight, everybody," he chirped, phasing away. The slightly older alien glared at the now-vacant spot before turning on his heel. He could feel the old couple follow closely.

"Is it safe now?"

Vegeta cast a glance over his shoulder before shrugging. "As far as I can tell. I can't sense anyone else around."

"What did he want?" The old scientist asked, climbing the stairs to the living quarters behind him. Not surprising, he sounded a bit ruffled and probably would need a few nights of peace to be reassured.

He paused at the top of the stairs, watching the old people come to a stop. He really didn't want to have to explain the whole, sordid event, but it would get them to leave him alone for a few hours. "What any fool of Frieza's would want now: complete and total control of the universe. He wanted me to join his pitiful army."

"So you killed him."

"It was that or let him bring the rest of the morons here to try to extract me off of this planet."

Dr. Briefs nodded. Getting this much of a peek into Vegeta's past life was enough to make him feel twice his age. "I'm glad you're alright," he admitted, eyes practically smiling as Bulma huffed something under her breath and buried her face in the side of Vegeta's neck. The man looked like he was ready to drop her and bolt to his room, but he ground his teeth instead. Stifling his laugh, he bid goodnight, following his wife to their room.

* * *

After five minutes of trying to extract Bulma's arms from around his neck, the very tired, very irritated Saiya-jin gave up and plopped into her bed. The sheets billowed around them as he tucked them in; the pillows were fluffed a bit as he fell back on them. Her scent permeated every inch of the room, wrapping around him in the most comforting way possible. He allowed a blissful sigh to pass through his lips.

Part of him hoped against hope that no more ex-mercenaries from Frieza's fallen empire would come to bother him. It was getting old and way to predictable. He only wanted to focus on training (to beat Kakarot, of course) and allowing a bit of his new home-life to seep into his pores.

But only a little bit.

* * *

**A/N: Now over 100 pages! WOO! Hope you all were ok with this chapter. I'm no good with battle scenes so I couldn't write it out as well as I wanted to. I'll leave that up to your imaginations.**

**For those of you wondering what that other Saiya-jin said...it's a made up language! Buuut, it will be revealed towards the end of this story...which is still a bit far off. I think I might cover it all the way up to when the Androids appear. We shall see.**

**Anywho, review please!**


	19. Worth

**Chapter Nineteen: Worth**

* * *

The reflection of the snow bounced back through the open curtains of the windows and balcony doors of the heiress' room. She groaned, throwing her forearm over her eyes in an attempt to ward off the day. Just a few more minutes of sleep, then she would be ready to head into the office and finish up the last of the reports her father had wanted her to work on. Rolling over on her side helped block out a bit of the annoying light, especially since a semi-large figure provided the perfect shade.

Blue eyes popped open in surprise.

Lying on his side, facing her, Vegeta dozed, one arm underneath the pillow, the other loosely thrown over her. His features were softened enough to make him look years younger; the spit bubble that hung precariously from the corner of his mouth swelled and shrank with each breath he took. It was, quite frankly, adorable. Bulma felt her hand act of its own accord, reaching out lightly touch wild spikes that looked eerily like bangs that brushed his forehead. Her lip quirked up to one side, barely suppressing the urge laugh as the rebellious bangs continued to plop back down. She stopped immediately when one confused, dark eye opened.

"Wha—?" He mumbled, now fully glancing around the room. His eyes landed back on her and she smiled, sad that she had woken him from much needed rest, but glad he hadn't blasted her into eternity. He only returned her smile with a smirk, loping his arm back around her as he fell back against the pillow.

Bulma let out a giggle, snuggling up against him. She didn't dare look shocked or uttered a word about his rather cozy behavior. Instead, she embraced him, sighing contentedly. Her palm pressed against his back, she delivered soothing ministrations, absently wondering if he was sore from his random battle against Bani and the other soldiers that had descended upon Earth. He hadn't said anything to the contrary, so she continued.

Well, until she felt something warm. And wet. And slightly sticky.

Vegeta stiffened shortly after she did, his arm tightening around her just a smidge.

"What the…? Is this _blood_?" She tried to sit up, but with her belly and Vegeta's grip, she was pinned to the mattress. "Stop being a dick! Let me up."

He huffed, ignoring her request. "I was planning on heading to the med bay. No need to concern yourself."

"You were bleeding ALL night! Why didn't you say anything?"

At his shrug she felt herself flush with rage. "I am a warrior. There have been plenty of times where I fell asleep with wounds and broken bones."

Although it was a frightening look into his past, Bulma felt her heart clench. To think of him being anything but 100% healthy was disheartening. "That's in the past. This is the here-and-now where you have someone who's willing to take care of your wounds."

"I am not a child to be coddled by you, Bulma."

"And I don't want _our_ child to grow up without their father. We're going to the med bay now."

Vegeta growled, the sudden reminder of the past twelve hours hitting him faster than any blast from Frieza ever could. His eyes slid down to her swollen, pregnant stomach before returning to her deep, cerulean eyes. They shared a glare, him conceding after a few seconds. Another growl escaped his throat as he kicked off the sheets and stomped out of the room.

Bulma hopped up from the bed, casting a glance back at his newly vacated space. The splotches of slightly dried and fresh blood made her feel a little queasy, but she gulped down a mouthful of air to placate her nerves. With renewed strength, she followed the Prince's path.

* * *

Mrs. Briefs had never been one to worry over much of anything. There was a time when she had felt nervous—maybe anxious was a better word—over her husband's new air car prototypes, but the feeling had been as fleeting as her attention span. But this area was completely new to her.

She was going to be a grandmother.

It had always been a dream of hers to see her daughter succeed in everything she touched and to finally settle down with a nice man, one who could take care of her in ways that money couldn't. Yamcha had never fit the bill and Bunnie was sad to say that she had known that from the start. Then up comes Vegeta who literally turned the house upside down. He was mysterious, kept to himself, strong, and good looking to boot. What woman wouldn't be sucked into that sort of temptation?

But the temptation had led to an even bigger consequence, one that everyone in the household would have to deal with. Don't get her wrong, she was absolutely ecstatic…but the way the two were already bickering—and Vegeta had only been home for maybe fourteen hours—there was no telling what tomorrow would hold for them, 'engaged' or not.

"I just don't get him mom. He switches from hot to cold in nanoseconds." Bulma lazily sipped orange juice through a straw. "The fact that he's even touched me in front of Goku is blowing my mind as we speak."

Bunnie frowned thoughtfully, glancing out the window at her future son-in-law as she did the dishes. Injured and with the GR out of commission, the alien had chosen to do a series of katas in the front yard. He balanced gracefully on the narrowest fencepost he could find, not even bothering to use that 'ki' they always prattled on about. "He's a man, dear," she stated, scrubbing a dish covered heavily in syrup.

The blue-haired woman snorted, blowing a few bubbles in her glass. "All men are idiots, I swear."

"He cares for you; I can see it when he looks at you or when he hears your voice."

Again, Bulma snorted, swirling her straw around. "Mom, he's not a sentimental, blubbering teen. We annoy the hell out of each other when we're in the same building, let alone the same room."

"You care about him too." Bunnie spared a glance over her shoulder before focusing on a pan.

"Well, yeah. But still. I have a bigger reason for this attachment. If it wasn't for the fact that he promised dad and me that he would stick around, I'm sure he would've bolted by now."

"Oh, honey, you don't know that."

"Yes, I do! You should see and hear the way he talks about Gohan. I can't imagine how he's going to feel once our baby is born. It's all fine and dandy now because the bun is still baking in my oven…but the baby will be here in about six months!"

Bunnie shook her head, caught off guard momentarily by Vegeta's swift kick that didn't even cause him to teeter on his tip-toe. "I know I can be a little…_absentminded_…at times, but I am certain of what I see. Vegeta's not so literate is voicing what he feels; I guess that has a lot to do with how he was raised. But I've never seen him perk up at any sound or look at anything the way he looks at _you_. You two are hard to deal with, regardless—"

"HEY!"

"But you're right for each other. He's just getting used to the idea of having another person in his life. Give him time; he'll come around."

Bulma blinked, gaping openly at her mother. Moments of lucid clarity from her mother were rare indeed, but the fact that the woman had more insight into the psyche of Vegeta and her daughter was enough to send her mind reeling for years to come. "Thanks…?"

"No problem, dearie!" Bunnie chirped back, seriousness now out the window and blown away by the wind.

"Right. I'm going to go make up with the brute on the fence. I'll see you around, mom."

* * *

There were few places in the universe Vegeta felt completely at peace. His mother's gardens in the main palace on Vegeta-sei had ranked as number one for as long as he could remember the smells and sounds. As time passed, the memories became dimmer and dimmer until he couldn't remember if the fountain by his favorite tree was made of marble or metal, or if his mother's favorite flower sat by the entrance to the garden or against the back wall. The smallest details began to elude him, and as they did, they took away the greater picture.

The gardens at Capsule Corp, however, were as close to the memories of the ones on his home planet as he could get. The scents seemed to slap him hard across his face, reviving those splices from his childhood as best as they could. It was, to put it simply, wonderful. Thus the reasoning behind his choosing to do his katas here and not in the back by the out-of-commission GR. It was peaceful, quiet, facing away from the constant buzz of the street-side portion of the compound. Perfect for meditation, he found himself thinking of everything and nothing as he worked through the motions of katas he had been doing for years and years.

This was probably the reason why the woman's sudden presence knocked him off of his perch and unto his rear on the ground.

"Uhm, hi," she said, letting out a bit of a nervous laugh as she towered over him. He offered a glare as he easily stood, jumping back on the post to continue where he left off.

"I'm training. Go away."

The Prince heard her huff and stomp down a foot, crushing a stray weed that had managed to sprout itself in the nearly impeccable, frozen garden.

"I will do no such thing! I came out here to talk to you."

He rolled his eyes. "Can't it wait until later? I really am training."

"No." She crossed her arms, glaring up at him. Honestly, despite her standing a few feet below him, Bulma looked rather intimidating. He smirked, admiring the spark in her eye as she outwardly defied him. Had it been anyone else, he probably would've obliterated them instantly. As it was, and being who she was, well…it was amusing.

"Still stubborn, are we? Alright, hurry and say your peace so I can continue."

Her eyes seemed to darken instantly. "We can't keep snapping at each other like this all of the time, Vegeta. How will we ever raise our child in a healthy environment if we can't go thirty seconds in each other's presence without spitting hell fire?"

This time, he shrugged. "This is how we are, woman. The brat will understand."

"Are you serious? Do you mean to say that _this_ is how we're going to explain it to them? '_This is how we are_'? Really?"

"Yes. Kami knows I would've been able to escape this planet if you weren't the way you are."

Bulma blinked, realizing, thankfully, what he was saying before she retaliated. Could it be that her mother's 'wasted' words actually had some meaning to them? Oh sure, he cared about her somewhat—last night was proof of that—but if what he just said now was true…chances were he _really_ did feel attached to her. Maybe he was emotionally attached, and not just physically as she had feared all along. Wow. Warmth began to fill her at that sudden revelation. "Maybe He had this planned from the beginning. Kami can be a bit tricky."

"How well I know," he mumbled, absently rubbing at the non-existent scar from his death on Namek. "Can I get back to my training now or are you going to continue to butcher my hearing?"

The heiress felt herself grin, poking her housemate in the shin. "I'm done. But I was wondering…"

Vegeta felt his curiosity pique. "What is it?"

"Could you—maybe—teach me a few katas? I don't want to get fat while I'm pregnant. And don't you give me that look! I know it's normal to gain weight, but that doesn't mean I have to turn into Shamu."

The Saiya-jin felt lost for a moment as he pondered just what a 'Shamu' is, but he ignored it, hopping down from the post. He pressed her back against his front, grabbing her wrists. "I might as well. Heaven knows you won't leave me be unless I entertain you."

"Oh, whateve—"

"This is the first kata. Shut up and pay attention."

"Yes, _sensei_." She giggled as Vegeta's growl echoed in the garden. Maybe, just maybe, this would be a nice way to get more acquainted with her future husband.

* * *

The weeks seemed to melt by, despite the thickening of the snow outside. With Christmas looming ever-so-near, Bulma continued to count her blessings. The fact that they had made it through a year, nearly unscathed and with no detrimental threats against the earth was enough to make her long to have a reunion with her family and friends.

Vegeta, though still tender with his still healing ribs, was as healthy as ever. The GR was up and running, and aside from the nightly activities (because he found her simply irresistible), they managed to stay out of each other's hair. She guessed it was because he was mostly spooked about Frieza's men trying to recruit him to save the empire. That he was still on Earth with her was nothing short of a miracle, but then again he was a man of his word. All the more reason for her to want to celebrate this special holiday with the usual Briefs' glam.

Thus, she began to plot.

* * *

**A/N: Very short, yes, but I needed a transition piece. Time's going to fly a bit, considering I can't cover every little detail (as much as I would love to). I will, however, highlight important parts that I think could've happened, or were just important in and of itself (Trunks' birth, Goku's death, etc.).**

**Also, for those that might still not get it: Zarbon, Bani, and Frieza's Guards' return is a significant point. I know that the cannon Zarbon died on Namek, but I made him survive in much the same manner as Frieza to return. I think that during that year when Vegeta was "searching" for Goku in space, he went around a killed members of Frieza's army, and during the present timeline, in order to train for the Androids, he went back into space and finished them off. Being as how they had no knowledge of the Androids in the Future timeline beforehand, I think that Vegeta probably didn't travel that far into space when he did train, so never got a chance to kill them all. They came to Earth in search of him, and despite the fact that he *did* kill them all, they were not enough to aid in his ascension in the Future. A bit confusing, yes, but it'll all be ironed out at the end of the fic.**

**Hope you enjoyed! Stay tuned for more :)**


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